The Lament of Forgotten Ideas
by yorushihe
Summary: Basically an Idea graveyard... feel free to peruse, read and so on! Majorly fem!Harry, one odd fem!Ron, a couple of crossovers and more! Mostly baby fics that were born and never continued beyond a couple of chapters.
1. HP x Naruto

I have a thousand and one ideas, so I thought I'd put them up for you guys to enjoy the snippets as well :)

Some of these might get continued or turned into full stories, but they are mostly cluttering my hd~! Most of them are also crossovers or have a fem!harry somewhere... they come and go as my ideas shift, and if you want to adopt and continue them, please let me know! :D

ALERT! They ARE NOT BETA'D nor did I edit them after writing them out, so maybe... grammar mistakes? teehee...?

 **Need to knows** : This is obviously a fem!Harry… AU for Naruverse… _Kuroi_ means _Black_ , they will be speaking in Japanese, but most Japanese words will be translated aside from names and the wordplay in Sirius' surname (Black – Kuroi) – There are no "L" or "V" in Japanese, so they are going to be substituted by their corresponding sounds (" _L"_ to " _R"_ and " _V_ " to " _B_ ") – Any English should be in _italics_ … annnndd that's it.. as far as I remember x)

 **Be a Deer**

 **XxxXxxX**

"Hey dad… how did you and mom meet?"

"Tsc… ask your mom, she loves to tell that story"

"…."

"Fine… sit down and pull the board, might as well have a match while we're at it" Father faced son. The father smiled and the son sighed a long suffering gust of breath. Why did he ask again? Oh right, _curiosity_. Troublesome thing. "It happened two and a half years before the end of the third shinobi war. Your old man was an active jounin and not yet commander. Our intelligence received word of a curious small shop that sold very _peculiar_ products…"

 **XxxXxxX**

"Che… Why do I have to go? They could send a chunnin runner or even a scout. I am more useful here than running errands" A younger Shikaku complained to his squad mates. A blonde, long haired man named Yamanaka Inoichi and a large, sturdy man named Chouza from the Akimichi clan.

Being the more sensible of them, Chouza blinked at Shikaku before staring pointedly at the other jounin's bandaged arm. "You almost lost your arm Shikaku-san… take the time to complete this task and rest your shoulder a little" A warm meaty hand patted on the bandages softly, though still drawing a wince from the Nara man.

"The war will still be here when you come back" Supplied Inoichi helpfully "If it is of any consolation, we're village bound as well. hokage-sama is passing the mantle soon and the successor's ceremony will require the presence of at least a few high ranking officers"

"In the least" Chouza agreed, smirking slightly.

Shikaku glared. He had to resist the urge to cross his arm. His shoulder was smarting horribly without any proficient medic-nin in the front lines to tend to it in time – being treated a week later has made recovery a bit more tricky, but not impossible. Though Shikaku actually understood why _he_ was being called specifically; he was just bitching for the sake of it – his friends and squad mates needed the break if their light smiles and bright eyes were anything to go by.

Shikaku's father was still alive and though he was not physically able anymore – being crippled during one of the past wars – he still had the sharp, cunning mind of any Nara – thus Shikaku could be excused from the council while his friends could not.

"Fine. If this is how things are going to be, then see if I bring any souvenirs" The Deer clan's heir sighed for the umpteenth time. Looking down at the mission scroll and avoiding his squad mates' eyes. It wasn't one of _those_ missions, it was a scouting and recognizance if nothing else – though he's been there when the Hokage made the mission official based on the actual report.

In a crossroads merchant settlement that became a small town over time, was a shop – nothing that would raise alert in any normal case – but apparently some patrolling team made of younglings (recently graduated genins) found this _Share-ya_ and bought a couple of _interesting_ articles.

Joke products.

No one would have taken them seriously if not for what happened a week after the children acquired said items. They were ambushed by raiders, bandits who were profiting from the war by attacking unprotected caravans – Neutralizing the bandits was no problem for trained shinobi, but it was how the resourceful little greenhorns actually did it.

From strange flash bombs that were ruthlessly effective in blinding the enemy, and the enemy _only_ \- to itching powder - something called _Hug Candy_ – a gum that when spat practically tripled in size and became a thick, prompt sticky rope to another assortment of random things that proved very useful in the hands of the genin team.

 _Joke products_.

If jokes were this effective in the hands of those kids, imagine the damage one seasoned ninja might do with _those_ in their hand?

Shikaku was given the task to go study the shop and gauge the owners – if possible, secure the owners into Konoha' service or patent their products for his village – If the owners didn't want to compromise, then well… their silence would be more valuable.

 **XxxXxxX**

"Oh dear, you're usurping my rights as his mum to tell the story?"

The father paused in the middle of a Shogi move, stretching his neck to stare at the particularly intimidating figure of his wife. "The kid asked. I couldn't say no when he insisted"

Their son opened his mouth to defend himself, but then again, it was the truth. His mom made everything twice more complicated. "Yeah" He finally settled.

"Very well, I suppose I should pick up where your da left off!" She smiled brightly at both her husband and son. "I was a couple of years older than you are now, my friends and I thought we could take the world with our bare hands at the time (still do!), so what do we do? We invade the Ministry! It was all done to stop a Dark Lord, of course, do you remember the story? Yes? Then let's move on…"

 **XxxXxxX**

 _She certainly didn't expect that when she bravely (stupidly) threw herself head first through the Veil of Death after her godfather._

 _At the time, with blood pumping furiously through her veins and adrenalin making every movement last an eternity – all she could see was Sirius Black, haloed by the blast coming from his cousin Bellatrix LeStrange's wand, cantering toward the deadly doorway. The flimsy curtains wisping around like pale hands as if to grab his body in a deathly hug, face crisp and pained in a silent scream that never left his throat._

 _Iliana's eyes met with her beloved godfather's – the closest and fondest family member she had left. Behind her gaping eyelids, memories of their time together played unbidden. Of his large, protective hand caressing her head after a nightmare (on the nights she's stayed in Grimmald Place) or the way his eyes simply lit up when he spoke of better times. The multiple times they shared hot-cocoa by the fireplace, or the late night conversations – Iliana lobbed on Sirius all the fatherly love she craved, and he gave back in kind._

 _Her slightly insane, horribly vindictive but well-loved godfather that she'd never see again if she allowed him to go through the veil._

 _Dainty hands shot out – they were hers. She could see by the terrible manicure, Unbridge scars and bony knuckles – they were her hands and they were making their way toward Sirius. Her legs didn't take long on catching up, and suddenly everything was in motion again._

 _The room spun, faces passed through her sight range. Friends and foes all blurred into one mad picture framed by Bellatrix's deranged cackles… "_ _ **I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!**_ _" She sang again and again, the sound echoed in Iliana's head and spurring her fraying nerves into_ _ **action**_ _._

 _Sirius body dived backwards into the Veil almost bonelessly. His quicksilver eyes were already glassy, as if all hope has left him in a single moment. Iliana was darting forward. She'd reach him in time – she_ _ **would**_ _,_ _ **had**_ _to reach him in time. Hands extended, it seemed as if they were both floating in an endless second in which everything was frozen in expectant climax._

 _Cold, numb fingers grasped instinctively at her own scarred hand. Sirius' eyes flickered momentarily, before horror enveloped his face – Iliana's belly flip-flopped, her hand tightened around her godfather's when she felt he was about to let go. They would fall together into obliviousness._

" _No! Lana! Iliana_ _ **let go**_ _!" Remus' voice came like a thunder hammer. Cutting and sending a jolt through her bones. But it was too late. Just as Sirius was disappearing into the Veil of Death, Iliana was nose-diving into it right after him._

 **XxxXxxX**

"Kuroi Shiriusu?" A polite male voice rang through their shop. Iliana, who was still quite sleepy, lazily raised her head from the pool of drool on the counter.

A tall, dark haired man was staring pointedly at her. ' _How embarrassing!'_ He had tanned skin, with deep black pools for eyes and piercings on both his ears. His hair was pulled back in a high ponytail away from his angular face and he wore a jounin flak jacket, but there was no headband to be seen. He was quite handsome to boost, doubling Iliana's chagrin at being caught napping.

Giving him a sheepish grin, Iliana straightened on her terribly comfortable chair and stood, assuming her supposed position at the cashier. If Sirius saw her, he'd be on her case about propriety. As if he could judge. Her godfather was most likely still hung-over in their flat. "He's indisposed at the moment. My name is Kuroi Iriana, Shiriusu's daughter, may I help you?"

The man kept his polite mien but was eyeing her speculatively. That's when the young woman finally caught the glint of metal from his upper arm. The swirly symbol was easily recognizable – her visitor was a Konoha shinobi. "Perhaps it is best if I come back later." He finally said, making Iliana wince again… there was no way someone would take her seriously after catching her napping on the job.

' _Fair enough, though it is still mortifying…'_ She thought unhappily. Her visitor shot one last look at her face before turning on his heels and walking out the door. Iliana shook her head, blinked then shot out after him. "Wait! What's your name?" Why did she have to sound so breathless?

"Nara Shikaku… I will come back in a few hours" And with those parting words, the shinobi named Shikaku disappeared in the midst of a dramatic cloud of dust.

' _Deer?'_ Was Iliana's bemused thought. ' _Or is it '_ assassin _'?'_ Her Japanese could still do with some work, even after all these years.

The shop keeper took a moment to admire the sky. The sun wasn't that high yet, and she woke up at seven in the morning to open their shop. Sirius would remain in a coma until she started lunch going – then he'd be nursing a headache for another hour – yesterday being Friday, and Saturday being Sirius' lazy day – he had _too much_ fun at the bar last night.

It was Sirius' idea to open a shop only two years ago, exactly five years since they've been dumped in this place by whatever powers that be. ' _It's been five years already?'_ The young woman wondered as she walked to the counter, eyes trailing over their merchandise. Of course Sirius' idea of a shop was a Joke one.

A little Share-ya – a Joke Shop with which they had endless fun coming up with new products, testing them and getting to earn some money out of it. Most of their clientele were made of merchants' children that came and went with the seasons' caravans and tourists. The town they settled in was relatively nondescript and small, but saw a lot of business since it was by a popular road that connected the royal capital to the Hashirama forest, where Konoha was located.

It was also the first sight of humanity they saw when landing on this World.

' _We didn't know how to speak a word of Japanese'_ Iliana remembered, finally settling back on her chair and leaning next to the cashier as she did earlier. ' _We were lucky we still had our magic'_ It made surviving easier… Though they didn't speak the language at the time, both Sirius and Iliana knew they had to start _somewhere_.

Both stumbled to the ground in a heap of robes and limbs. Sirius was askew on the ground, with Iliana's hair tangled in his beard and her knees digging painfully in his kidney. Their hands were still grasped though – they made sure to not let go when Iliana's fate joined Sirius'.

" _Are you alright?"_ Her godfather asked, tensing underneath her and prompting Iliana to scamper off him.

" _Yeah… I'm fine… what about you Padfoot? That curse Bellatrix sent seemed nasty"_ The raven haired girl asked, looking at him in search of injury.

Sirius shrugged. He felt fine, though a bit dizzy. But as soon as his wits returned, he grabbed Iliana so fast her forehead smacked on his chin when he shook her. " _You fool! Why did you come after me!?"_

Wasn't it obvious? " _Because I just met you!"_ The teenage witch snapped back. " _You know how much I longed for a family! How much I dreaded the Dursleys! Then you came up and I had hope! So I'm not about to let you slip through my fingers no matter what"_

" _Little fawn…"_ He groaned, rubbing his chin and kissing her forehead. " _I'm sorry"_ And they hugged right there, in the middle of nowhere.

Of course that at the time, none of them had the presence of mind to think about _all_ the consequences, but they would in time. Iliana bitterly thought. ' _I still feel guilty about the prophecy… I hope Dumbledore has managed somehow…'_ Though she didn't feel very appeased at the prospect of _dying_ so Voldemort could be defeated, her consciousness wouldn't let her hands be washed so easily.

Not speaking a language in a strange place was scary. Sirius, being a little bit more world weary recognized the language, though Iliana had some idea as to what it was thanks to Duddley's violent anime shows she sometimes peeked at when he watched those at the living room TV.

Then, along with not knowing the language, they had no useable money… well, they managed to scrooge up a few coins between their pockets – selling them for their value in metal in the market gave the pair of stranded wizards a little local currency that they spent on food right away.

After that, things got trickier… at least until Sirius had the brilliant idea of performing parlor tricks on the street to earn money. There was no MoM to regulate underage magic, so Iliana was free to abuse how many spells she wanted to play pretend a _real_ Magic show. Sirius would levitate her, or someone from the 'audience', they'd make things disappear and appear somewhere else, or simply pull out a bunny out of a top hat. It was a blast with the tourists, and in no time at all their pockets were full again.

" _We need to learn the language"_ Sirius pointed out after they mimed their way into an Inn.

Iliana nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing. She's been able to pick up a few words here and there from their times on the streets already. " _Yeah…_ Good morning _and_ How much is it _aren't going to take us far"_

" _You know that much already? All I've been able to learn are_ Shit, Fuck _and_ Screw you" Iliana shot a stinging hex at her unrepentantly grinning godfather.

Thankfully, the Innkeeper was a nice old lady who got enthusiastically happy when they asked for help. Learning how to speak Japanese at the same time as they learned how to write and read it was most useful. It took the pair of them almost a year to speak the local dialect and even then they had to deal with the terrible accent – two years to learn all the complicated symbols that made up the written language.

The young woman sighed. Her cheeks heated again when her brain conjured images of her blunder earlier. The shinobi, Nara Shikaku, was a handsome man that she wouldn't mind getting to know better – though he must think she was a simpleton now – she'd have a chance of redemption later that day when the konoha-nin said he'd come back for Sirius.

It must be some kind of Potter curse. She remembered her fourth year during which she was forced to compete in the Triwizard tournament and also the fabled year in which she finally took notice of _boys._ She and Hermione both spent fairly good portions of the night discussing the attributes of their male classmates – sometimes being joined by Lavender and Pádma – and it was during the Champion Introduction that Halloween day that she first took notice of _Cedric_.

Handsome Cedric. With his messy honey colored hair, sharp eyes and strong jaw. She had crumbles of toast in her hair – the Weasley twins weren't happy she was chosen as a champion and they _weren't -_ when she finally mustered the courage to go say hi to him. Cedric pretended not to notice said crumbs, but as soon as he thought she wasn't looking anymore, he was snickering along with his friends.

Her father faced similar problems while wooing Lily, Sirius told her. So Iliana was starting to think that mortifying herself in front of interesting males was indeed a Potter curse.

Speaking of her godfather, Iliana leaned back against her chair, she'd have to start lunch soon in the hopes of rousing Mr. Black from his alcohol induced slumber. Then, there was that meeting with Mr. Deer to think about.

 **XxxXxxX**

"What are you doing?"

"Grandpa…"

"Hey there pops"

"We're re-telling the story of how dad met mum"

The father shared a look with his wife. His father-in-law was a riot and a half and didn't have an ounce of shame in his blood. His wife smiled innocently.

"I invited him for lunch, It _is_ Saturday"

"Oh… would you like to join us pa?"

"Sure! Now come on! Tell me where you left off!"

The son shook his head, eying his mom inquisitively. She was shooting warning glances left and right to the men in her life – he was instantly suspicious. "Mum was about to tell us about dad's first meeting with you"

With a huge, sparkling grin, the grandfather/father-in-law/father began. "I had this massive headache, and wasn't really in the mood for visitations, but your harpy of a mother (hey!) insisted on this one…"

 **XxxXxxX**

His brain must be doing its best impression of a drum. Pain shot behind his lids, but something had to have woken him up. There… the delicious smell of Saturday hangover lunch lingering teasingly just under his nose. Hmm… Roasted vegetables, fried fish and chips – Iliana outdid herself!

' _She either broke something or she's in a good mood'_ He thought, dragging himself pathetically out of the comfortable bed. Usually his (god)daughter was rather waspish in the weekends – no thanks to him, he admitted guiltily – he was the one who was supposed to wake up early and open shop. Iliana still insisted in studying their new world's customs and was often caught sleeping later than she should.

But Garan Hibuki and his brother Satori were celebrating Funebune Yodoi's birthday yesterday, and Sirius accidently met with them at the bar – one thing led to another and when he last noticed, he was being roped into a drinking game that he ended up winning – sake has _nothing_ on Fire Whiskey – and if he could drink Rosmerta under the table, then no one was a match for him and his bottomless stomach.

He didn't even remember staggering home, piss faced and passing out on his bed. Iliana must have steered him – he surely collapsed halfway into their apartment – to his room where his instincts led him into burrowing under the covers and sleeping until the smell of food woke him up.

And then, true to every Saturday ever since they opened their Share-ya, Sirius swaggered out his room in the flat above the store, dodging furniture like a veteran and bubbling into the kitchen with a half-smile on his lips. True to his thoughts, his god-daughter sat at the table staring deeply at her lunch.

"Morning" Sirius called, alerting the raven haired woman to his presence.

"It is already afternoon, Padfoot." She threw back. The man shrugged and sat down at their small table, uncovering his own lunch with a grateful nod to Iliana.

"Anything interesting happened?" He asked.

"Well… depends on what you'd consider interesting…" She answered reluctantly, shifting her eyes from side to side. Suspicion rising, Sirius stared pointedly at the very luxurious English lunch spread.

"Did you break something irreparable again? You know I won't be that upset, and if it's that ugly Tea Country tea set then I might even congratulate you! Been trying to do that ugly thing in for months since Mrs. Matsune gave it to us!"

"Uh! That tea set wouldn't look out of place in your mother's house!" Iliana shook her head, a look of pensive disgust on her face before it was replaced by a very fetching blush. Suspicions going somewhere no male parental figure liked to dwell, Sirius made a very brave and valiant effort not to start an Inquisition. He wasn't very successful, and something must have showed because suddenly Iliana was looking sheepish. "Potter luck struck again" She finally confessed.

Laughing became easier when his hungover brain stopped aching. A hearty lunch did that to a bloke – Sirius let out a cackle, ready to ignore the possible way this conversation could develop.

"What happened?" He asked, eyes bright.

His daughter's back slumped in defeat "A konoha representative came around this morning… I might have been taking a nap at the time…"

"Let me guess, he was the mostest handsomest man you've ever seen?"

"Is that how dad described mum?!"

"Of course he didn't call her handsome…"

...

TBC?


	2. Naruto SI crack

Oh dear fanfiction gods… this has been sitting in my HD for months now! I was binging OC-selfinserts stories like no tomorrow, so… here is this! It is not a self insert though. Warnings: Religion, OCs and probably violence.

Dear Ramen God

...

My situation is peculiar.

It started innocuously enough, a little voice in my head that was almost welcome after the _eons_ I've spent in the _Nothing._

How to explain the _Nothing_? It's like the opposite of existence, somewhere where I _was_ but _wasn't_ , perhaps more like an Idea than a being, though I retained enough thought process to count myself into existence even if in the _Nothing_ there is quite literally nothing.

No light, no sound, no texture, no smells, no feelings. I was just a floating thought. I think I might have been human once, though the idea of humanity escaped me long before the voice started.

" _Dear Ramen God... today has been awesome! I played a HUGE prank on the teachers and not even Iruka-sensei caught me! Oh! Their uniform will stay that inspiring shade of pink for at least a day until they get a new one… Um, what else? Right! I wanna thank you for the Ramen I had today, though I had to wait 3 minutes so I get to eat it, the Ramen was delicious and I hope I get to eat some more tomorrow… Good night, Ramen god!"_

A prayer.

What does it mean? Never met any god in the _Nothing_. Not the Christian one, not Abrahamic one, not a one from any pantheon that I could remember – and I could suddenly remember a lot of things from my human life, though I clung mostly to those of what the sun felt like against skin, the fluttery pleasure of a kiss and the taste of noodles… the last one for the simple reason that it is the memory that has the most clarity.

The taste of noodles.

Ramen God.

I see a pattern.

" _Dear Ramen God… I was caught by Iruka-sensei! He made me scrub clean all the uniforms while he watched, that asshole! Sakura-chan' slap didn't hurt as much today, maybe she's starting to like me a bit… Ehh! To escape Iruka-sensei's extra punishment (for also dying the teachers' underwear, I was_ _ **not**_ _going to wash those!) I got to camp out on top of the Hokage's head! He's totally cool with it too! Someday I might just paint it, so it doesn't looks boring anymore"_

Another prayer.

If I had a human heart, it would be palpitating right now. I recognize those names! I mean, perhaps the _Nothing_ connects me to a random Japanese kid who loves pranking people, has a teacher called Iruka, a crush named Sakura and has a Hokage something, maybe a leader or a prophet?

It could be a coincidence, I've been through weirder – after all, I'm a thought floating in literal nothing and am now being bombarded by _prayers_ of all things. Surely that beats it all?

Maybe I am deluding myself that I am not hearing Naruto's voice in my peaceful, meaningless existence… I died - what else could I do? Besides, I am certain that Naruto is a work of fiction created by the Japanese and widespread to the world. I might have watched a couple of episodes on paid television but it wasn't much else.

What are the chances?

" _May the Ramen God Curse you for this Blasphemy!"_

Can the Ramen God, of all Gods, curse anyone? And why am I still privy to this delusional kid's prayers? Aren't there other ideas floating around? Not in the _Nothing_. Never heard or seen or felt anyone else here besides me.

But whoever offended the kid, might deserve to be punished just for the laugh factor.

… ( _tug )_ …

…Huh… that was weird. Weird as in, it felt like nothing I've ever felt before.

My shapeless existence _shifted_. The _Nothing_ started to drain away, funneling through unknown sinkholes and revealing a light.

Tunnel, Light.

Feels nostalgic.

Wait, _feels?_ _Feelings?_ Am I _feeling_ something?

The light expanded, I lurched, unable to grasp just where I ended and the light began. I was familiar with feeling desperate, but this time, it went beyond desperation – like a raw nerve being scrubbed with barbed wires, it _hurt_ and I was _scared_ and at the same time…

… Happy.

And vengeanceful.

"What the heck are you talking about, freak? There is no ramen god or whatever!" There were noodles on the ground, sauce pooling around the limp pasta and fillings streamed about, a really _sad_ picture (why am I obsessed with the noodles? _Why?)_ and a spiffy looking little girl with bright purple hair was hovering above a spiky, blonde haired kid. "You're stupid!" The girl spat before stomping her way away.

Blonde. Blue sky blue eyes. Likes noodles and wears orange.

This one sees a pattern. And is not sure what should be feeling.

I mean. Naruto!

And at the same time, an unknown power swelled just below where my heart would have been, if I had a human body. It throbbed, pulsing to an unknown rhythm, and when it started to feel uncomfortable it swelled out, enveloping the little girl who _dared to speak ill of The Ramen God!_...

Wait.

What?

I am about to unleash my unbound wrath on a little innocent girl just because she snubbed the Ramen God? I guess she might be a mean bully to put the blonde kid down so much, then spill his food and laugh about his beliefs, but she's still a kid! I remember from my old life how children were supposed to be protected!

 _But she's spoken against the Gloriousness of Ramen and spat on Our Mighty Existence!_

Why do I feel some of those words were capitalized? Oh well… I tried to swallow the urge to curse the girl as she walked away from the blonde and his spilled ramen. The light subsided and curled around the girl's footsteps, coiling at every giggle she let out. I flexed my will over it, and the tendrils of light returned to me, folding underneath my ribcage just like before I knew it was _there_.

"Damn it! Look at what Ami did!" Naruto wailed, hesitant about touching the food on the ground but obviously still hungry if the pathetic tears running down his face were any indication.

I felt sorrow. I felt empathy. I also felt empowered.

I also spied the upturned bowl of noodles by the blonde's right foot. _Come on my Most Devoted Follower, pick up the bowl and let my Magnanimity bless you with abundance!_

This is getting stranger.

But for once I agree with this weird new side of me. It allowed me to _feel_ , and I could reign it in.

Neat.

We were also both in synchrony in our wish to help the blond.

"Ramen God, if you're listening, I didn't want to waste your gift!" Naruto finally picked up the bowl, and was turning back to the ramen stand. _Our Magnificent Temple!_ That's when I realized the window of opportunity to realize my first miracle.

Hah… Miracle. Only gods can grant miracles.

Does it mean…

Knowledge came pouring inside of me. I felt every little grain of wheat that went into the noodles' confection, I felt the life of the pork that was used for meat, I swam with the fish which bones made the broth, I was a cell in the stem of the carrots and felt like the shell that protected the shrimp that now leant its flavor to the food and every other ingredient that ever made up ramen was now a part of me.

I'm a god.

Of noodles…

And Uzumaki Naruto, a supposedly fictional character is my first follower.

My priest…

Could this get any more dysfunctional?

"Hey old man! I… I accidently spilled all the ramen… can I get a refill? I can pay you later"

 _This Magnanimous one's Number One Follower shall not suffer Hunger! May the Fortuitous Generosity of our Mighty Being bring forth a new era of Wealth and Gluttony!_

"What are you talking about, Naruto? Your bowl is full!"

"What?!"

…

I've been bound to this plane of existence for a couple of weeks now, and I do _not_ miss the _Nothing_. That I can affirm with absolute certainty.

Even though I got roped into playing god to a Noodle Obsessed ten year old boy… Which also happens to be my first follower and my head priest… honestly don't know how to proceed from now on, but I _can_ make things happen in the material world when circumstances align just right.

Key happenings, words said in the right order, the stars shining just _right_. It all had to be observed before I felt that brief window of opportunity to move a _miracle_ along – and yes, that's a thing now. I'm a god, I can make miracles happen.

But first… I feel like I should elucidate what I feel urged to do.

I have to swell my following.

Which right now numbers one, a single member who has no idea he's even part of a following… I have to make him notice that his dear Ramen God is real _and has bestowed Unfettered favors upon his Immortal Soul_ , because I can't seem to affect anything else that does not revolve around Naruto… or Ramen.

"Dear Ramen God… I think my luck has changed! Just today I forgot the take out Ramen's left overs on the kitchen top and was about to eat it, it smelled spoiled, but it's Ramen, you know? You can't waste Ramen, so I was about to chug it down as my breakfast when suddenly it wasn't spoiled anymore!"

"Dear Ramen God… today I forgot about spare change to buy an extra cup of instant Ramen at the food market, I only had enough for two! But just when I was crossing the street, I saw a coin by the drain! I was 500 ryu just lying on the ground for the taking, and enough to buy two extra cups of Ramen!"

"Dear Ramen God… I saw the strangest thing today! Sakura-chan was being mean, that's how she shows love, though, but she hit me on the head for asking her out again, and I was holding onto a free Ichiraku Ramen ticket. The ticket slipped from my hand and was about to land in a pond! But then, a breeze shot by just in time and carried the ticket to Iruka-sensei, who picked it up and returned the ticket to me! He told me that he also liked Ramen, and asked if we could go together, I didn't know you could talk to your teachers outside class, but Iruka-sensei is cool! I happy he's paying more attention to me!"

 _That is correct, mortal, worship my Glorious Self like the lowly life form that you are._ And you're welcome. I've worked hard to learn how to navigate untold knowledge about Ramen. Seriously. I know _everything_ about Ramen.

It's cute how Naruto prays to me every night before bed, and I feel empowered by his belief, which I noticed is getting stronger. A part of him must have realized the weird coincidence between his newly found luck and Ramen.

Soon, I will be able to bless the Ramen he eats.

Apparently it is a form of ritualistic worshiping. I'm not discussing that, beside enjoying that every time Naruto eats Ramen he's also feeding me just that tiny bit more power.

Maybe it is time that I try snagging my second follower. I knew just who fit the list.

Ichiraku Teuchi – Ramen chef extraordinaire – and with my knowledge about Ramen he'd become the mightiest Ramen chef ever! I want my future worshipers to have the best possible, maybe that's vain, but I'm a god now, I'm allowed to be vain.

So I nudged Naruto. Poking his metaphorical ideas and implanting a very little _something_ … Not a command or anything, I don't have the power to affect mortal's will, but I do have the power to make suggestions.

The likes of which went along these lines:

 _Talk about the Ramen God to the Ramen Chef._

Teuchi already believed in the power of Ramen, now he only needs to believe in the power of the Ramen god!

Today is Saturday, and Naruto only has morning classes. So I know he will go to Ichiraku for his weekly dose of handmade noodles. I followed him through the day, not finding any opportunity to affect the world around him in his favor, at least not until he reached the stand and met with his teacher.

"Iruka-sensei! Did you come for some Ramen too?" The blonde asked, beaming smile lit like a thousand suns – warmth settled in my chest (or its general area) and I tried smiling, just like him.

"Yes I did" The teacher replied, still hesitant about his involvement with what was known as the Demon kid – I remember vaguely of the show now, but even if I didn't know everything, I can clearly _feel_ the presence of Kyuubi inside of Naruto… It was like a halo of fire and bitterness asleep, cradled by warm and bubbly blue. "How was class today?"

"Come on! You were there! Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I'd like to hear it from you!" Iruka was trying to make conversation, I could respect that.

...


	3. HP

AU. Lily is sorted in Slytherin, Lily/Regulus.  
I read somewhere a really awesome Lily/Reg fic… It's such a rare pairing that I thought "What the bleeding wrack! I wanna write it too!"

 **Green Witch**

Before.

Her thoughts were a mess.

Swirling all over the place as she sat there in the arguably comfortable train compartment… She couldn't help but think about home. Her sister, her mother, father and then there was her best friend, Severus Snape.

It all started when Severus' family moved into a less than savory part of Cockeworth.

Nearer to the Mills and all the factories' pollution. The air always seemed heavier on the other side of the park that separated their neighborhood, but the park itself made a wonderful playground for the workers' children.

Summer after school. Lily and Petunia were playing in the swings, until Lily decided to show off the tricks she discovered she could do years before – controlling the trick was hard, but worth it – when Lily let go of the ropes and sailed above the swing set with a heavy thrust, body lifting and then descending slowly, her skirts fluttering excitedly around her legs. She landed on top of her feet a couple of meters away from Petunia's paling form.

Petunia disdained her tricks, but only because she couldn't do them too.

Alas, Lily knew of her sister's jealousy, and pettily played upon it with the same strange sadism all siblings everywhere preyed upon their genetic equals. She wanted to awe Petunia, wanted her to admit that Lily was the best, but Petunia would never do that… as the older and daddy's favorite, Petunia has been spoiled all her life.

Petunia wasn't the only witness. Unknowingly, Lily gained a stalker.

"You're a witch" He told her once, when he gained enough courage to approach her, as well as assurance that what he's seen her do was actually magic, and not a parlor trick. Severus Snape just witnessed Lily open and close a flower - after witnessing her fly without wings, making skipping stones skip back from the opposite river bank, frogs tap dance to their clapping beetle audience and change Petunia's nice summer dress' colors.

"That's mean!" Lily shouted back, unaware of the truth. Petunia loyally stood by her sister, sneering at the shabby looking kid who just insulted Lily.

Before the combined might of the two Evans girls, Severus fled.

But didn't give up.

He cornered Lily again, and this time explained things in a way that wouldn't be insulting to a little nine years old. "I… I meant you can use magic" He said. "The things you do, that's magic, it means you're a witch just like mum"

"Are you a witch too?"

"No!" He flushed furiously "Girls are witches, boys are wizards"

Wizards…? "Like Gandalf?" Lily asked excitedly. One of her favorite books growing up has been the Hobbit. She was already imagining herself in the midst of a dangerous expedition to topple a dragon – oh! How wonderful! But the boy Wizard didn't even know who Gandalf was.

"Who's Gandalf?"

It took a while to kindle any friendship between them. Time and a lot of explanation told by Severus Snape right out Eileen Snape's lips… "You're muggleborn, it means your parents are like my dad and have no magic" He said with contempt. He hated his father, it wasn't clear to Lily that time why he disliked hers and Petunia as well.

His father was the worst sort of muggle – in a magical point of view – Eileen's frustrations with her husband bled out into their son, and Severus resented his father's lack of magic just like his father resented the fact his son had magic. To Lily, this meant that while Severus was leery at best of everyone in their neighborhood, he only ever interacted with _her_.

He was _hers_. Just _hers_.

To a girl who had to share everything, from friends to clothes to parents with an overbearing older sister, having something of her own, just hers, was thrilling.

It didn't matter that Severus shunned Petunia – their rolls were legendary, she'd try to kick him and he'd drop branches on her head – and consequently, Lily who loved playing court within her new magic only club, learned that to keep her sycophant happy, she had to give up her "muggle" ties.

"Is Severus attending school?" Her father asked. Lily shook her head. "That poor boy. A boy his age needs to romp with other boys, not little girls" His green eyes widened as what he said to the boy's only friend dawned "Not that you're not enough my bud, but you also should make more friends. Petunia says you're not talking to the Richardson girls anymore"

"Helen is a bore and is _Petunia's_ friend" Lily defended herself. "And Lisa made a new friend in school and stopped talking to me first" She took a big breath, avoiding her father's worried eyes. "Sev is the only one who understands me!"

There should have been a note of finality somewhere in there.

Lily's parents didn't contest her much, a lot of reasons stemming from Petunia's glaring dislike of her new friend – the red haired girl did what she wanted, and she wanted to be Sev's only friend – mostly because everyone in their neighborhood was as muggle as Sev's father, and Lily was the only witch besides his mother.

Severus and Lily spent two years giggling and gossiping about magic under the slide, playing to the words of the Hobbit as they chased imaginary dragons through dark elven forests, pretending to be Lily the Red and Severus the Green.

And then the letters came.

First Year

The morning started with a suspiciously dewed eyed Petunia staring longingly at Lily's train ticket. The baggage she's packed the night before was sitting next to the front door, the only thing left was Lily's new owl – Gandalf – and Lily's dad, who was supposed to take it all to the car.

"Did Mr. Dumbledore answer your letter, sweetheart?" Lily's mother asked Petunia, who cringed, and then she sneered hatefully down at Lily.

"Who wants to be a freak anyway?"

"You do!" Lily accused. "You've been nasty since Ms. McGonagall came to show us Diagon Alley"

"Do not!" Petunia screeched. "Have fun playing in your ugly castle full of losers!" And just because she was feeling vindictive, her tongue slashed down at her sister with the vengeanceful power of a thousand slashes "You won't be anything special there! I bet your precious Severus will ditch you for better friends as soon as he can!"

What she said hurt.

And Lily ruminated the thought in her head through the way to Charring Cross, when Severus met with her in the compartment and started to comment on the people coming and going, only stopping when two other boys crashed into their space with the courtesy of a couple of raging elephants.

"Aren't you excited going to Hogwarts?" The boy with too much hair and less comb positively glowed at the other boy, with okay hair and too much cheekbones.

"You bet! I will be awesome to be away from my annoying little brother and my harridan of a mother! I swear she is more hag than witch sometimes"

How rude. Lily thought. Even when her mother nagged at Lily, she never called her names. Mum would wash her mouth with soap if she did such things.

"What house you want to be sorted?" Glasses hair boy asked them all, passing a glance over the uninteresting Severus and the frowning Lily. "I know that I would want to go right back home if I'm sorted in Slytherin!"

Three of them were silent. Two traded bewildered looks while the third was staring contemplatively out the window.

Rude glasses hair boy stared at his friend. "What? Don't tell me you want to be a snake? I thought you and I were mates!"

"We are!" Cheekbones assured.

"Then its Gryffindor for us champs" They smiled at each other, then looked expectantly at Severus – ignoring Lily completely since she was an icky girl.

"None of your business" Was the predictably Sevvy answer. Lily giggled discretely, feeling vindicated that the two rude boys were being barreled over by Severus' particular shade of unwelcoming.

The two shot Sev a glowering glare, which was completely ignored when Sev could be found with his head buried in a book he took out of Lily's hand bag.

They rode ignoring the other group until Hogwarts' station in Hogsmead.

Four to a boat.

Lower your heads.

Look up and be enchanted.

Lily marveled, ooh-ed and aah-ed with the other children. Stared sheepishly at Professor McGonagall when she lectured someone, and jumped when she saw her first ghost…

The magic only started losing its beauty when the sorting began, and Petunia's words started to ring in her head like execution bell tolls.

" _You won't be anything special there! I bet your precious Severus will ditch you for better friends as soon as he can!"_

The hat sung a song. She had to think quickly.

E came before S. Lily would be sorted first. She didn't want to be separated from Sev, didn't want him to find better friends and leave her behind – what if no one likes her? What if it's like school and she's second best?

"Evans. Lily"

Sev would most likely end in Slytherin like his mother. He's not that brave, and although he's hardworking, he's not sociable and kept to himself. He _might_ be sortedin Ravenclaw, but chances are the green and silver house.

The boys in the train hated Slytherin. If she's sorted there, she wouldn't be able to make friends! Even more because although Sev tried to sugarcoat things, he hated muggles… if he hated muggles, what about the house he wanted to be into?

"Good luck Lily!" Sev cheered, pushing her in the hat's direction.

 _Hmm… a possessive little thing aren't you? Quick, curious and ambitious, but also impulsive, brave and loyal… where to put you? You would do well in Ravenclaw… but no, it would be boring for one as dynamic as you wouldn't it? You need to grow into yourself, learn that not everything is about you, and learn to distinguish shades of greys… hufflepuff would coddle you, it wouldn't make you stronger._

 _So Gryffindor or Slytherin._ Lily thought to the hat.

 _Two paths before you. The bright, direct path, Gryffindor will help you make friends. It's the easier path to take. The darkened, winding path however, Slytherin will give you-_

 _Slytherin!_ She shouted mentally. _I know I've been a terrible friend to Sev, depending on him, and closing ourselves off. I want to be near him, he's my best friend._

 _If you're sure. "Better be Slytherin!"_

On a good note, the green and silver trimmings on her school robes did not conflict too badly with her hair.

...


	4. HP x Naruto 2

Yes! Ron Weasley is going to be the star!  
Warnings: HPxNaruto xover, Ron is Obito, OCness, a bit AU and so on.

 **The Knight who was Crowned Queen.**

He has grown up with six siblings, five older brothers and a little sister.

His family wasn't that well off, so ever since day one, he was the brunt of his brother's older things – that was something that marked him for a very long time… He watched them as the other children in the little community of Ottery St. Catchpole all had new clothes, shiny toys, pocket change to buy candy whenever they wanted.

They didn't bring packed lunches to the day school, didn't have multiple patches on their elbows or knees… Their cloaks didn't fray on the edges, and their mums all stood with poise and were never seen with dirty aprons on top of their dresses.

He didn't resent his parents, not ever since witnessing his mum crying for not being able to buy a pretty hairpin because then, there wouldn't been enough money to buy dinner – or the sad, understanding downturn of his dad's eyes whenever he caught the look of disappointment on any of his children's faces upon not receiving a nice or new gift for their birthday.

It hurt.

Being frugal was learned from an early age…

" _Be careful not to wrinkle the pages too much! And don't you dare draw on the borders! That book is going to Ronald, and he won't appreciate your horrible doodles on his school books"_

" _Sweetheart, mummy only needs to adjust this…" A swish of her wand and the trousers were suddenly snug against his hips. Percy might have been shorter than him at his age, but sure was rounder! "See? Perfect!"_

Only it was not, because almost nothing he owned had truly belonged to him – there was a last sibling on the inheritance ladder, and despite being a girl and deserving new and girly things when their parents could afford it – _Nevermind the youngest son, he was old news, he didn't deserve new things, why? When they could give everything to Ginny? –_ Ronald had to watch an unfair number of times when toys he thought were his, were unceremoniously passed down to Ginny.

There was this sense of "Not really mine" to everything he owned since that realization came to mind.

It didn't help that he had five _talented_ older brothers…

Bill, the heir, first born son – the eldest of seven children born to Arthur and Molly Weasley. Bill was ten years old when Ronald was born, thus the one farthest from him on an emotional level – when he was old enough to be cognate, Bill was halfway through Hogwarts and on his way into a brilliant future that their parents couldn't help but _gush_ about. Bill was smart, had a good head for puzzles and was just _perfect_. Everyone looked up to him, even Ronald.

A step down the ladder came Charlie. Charlie who was the second son, undoubtfully had to deal with some whispers comparing him to Bill. Charlie was wild and _intense_ , opposite to Bill's coolness. The second son was made of fire, breathed fire and had passion written in everything he did. He was _loud_ , and while Ronald could empathize with Charlie, he wished his brother would have been more plain, less bright, less _something_ , because then someone might have noticed Ron's own light.

Percy was four years older than Ron. While growing up, Percy always tried emulating their older brothers, and when that didn't work in gaining their parents' approval, Percy decided to appeal to _obedience_. He tried to follow the rules as closely as possible, tried to be the perfect son when he saw how much positive attention Bill got and how Charlie got scolded. Percy had it tough in his own way, but he managed to claw his way into glory by following a route not yet treaded by any of their brothers.

The same happened with Fred and George. However, instead of Bill's nice child act, they decided to elect Charlie as their role model – And then took things onto another level. Mischievous, the twins had something none of the brothers had. They had _one another_. They had a confident their own age inside the household, someone they could trust whole heartedly. They got their mother's attention, though not positive, it was something that a needy child like Ronald _envied_.

Then, that's when Ronald comes. The only good thing he did, apparently, was being born the same year as _Harry Potter_. After 1981, when the greatness of the Boy-Who-Lived was spread into every wizarding home in the Enclaves, things _changed._ New books were bought, new stories told, and new ambitions born. Ron was someone who has learned to go through life without much expectations, but even he conceded…

Harry Potter was the best thing that has happened to him. Ever.

He remembered meeting Harry Potter, realizing how much they had in common yet _not._

 _Harry's clothes might have been worse than his. That's the first thing he noticed about the kid sitting alone in the otherwise crowded train – not that he bothered to look further down the cars when he noticed this little fact, a white lie never hurt anyone, and so he decided to intrude in the kid's compartment, the kid who might share his situation – wrinkled shirt, patched trousers and that right shoe seemingly had a hole at its toe, but was closed again using tape – plus the hair. Messy hair._

And then he found out that the kid who looked worse than he did was actually Harry Potter, hero of most of his childhood stories, defeater of the biggest bogeyman ever and target of his hero worship mixed in with jealousy. He had to be loaded right? Didn't he receive gifts? Money? Weren't his guardians taking good care of him?

Yet, Harry Potter ended up being so _simple_. So _humble_.

It was like a slap to the face, and it only took Ronald about six years of close contact with Harry and a screaming admonishing from Ginny that he came to truly understand Harry Potter.

" _Ron! Stop being a git! Don't you see what Harry is doing? He's been pushing us, his closest friends, away for some time now, don't you ever wonder_ _ **why?**_ _Well, I will tell you! Harry thinks he will die! There! Are you happy now knowing you've left your best friend behind to die? Hermione knows this too, she knows sacrifice and she was ready to sacrifice herself along with Harry… I'd have gone along with him had he allowed me to, but he only took you and Hermione… do you need me to explain this to you, too?"_

Harry might have loved Ginny. But he Loved Ron and Hermione even _more._ They were move than friends to him, they were his right and left arm, his family chosen outside of blood and who shared _blood_ with him. They toppled the government together, defeated a Dark Lord more than once and a number of other things…

When have Harry demanded _anything_ beyond their loyalty and friendship? Things that should have been freely given anyway?

Ron grew up having to be greedy, protecting what was his with teeth and claws. But Harry had his own claws clipped, didn't he? So Ron understood what Ginny wanted to say.

Ron was his claws. Hermione was his teeth. They had to protect him. Thus they did.

Ah… He'd always remember his school days fondly. Ronald married his best friend and became family with his other best friend – Ginny did manage to guilt trip Harry into admitting his feelings – He'd like to think that he grew wiser with age, that he learned temperance from Hermione and taught her how to enjoy life outside her studies.

He liked to think he was an outstanding father, a bit overprotective of his little girl and doting on his little boy – that he gave them everything he never had, no one should know beside Hermione – but who could blame him?

There were ups and downs, there were joys and sorrows, he wasn't a perfect human being, but you know what? He's just human in the end.

And like a human, he died one day.

No regrets, surrounded by family and friends, holding the hands of his wife and son as he watched sadly his daughter cry in the arms of that upstart Malfoy spawn- No, no badmouthing Malfoy on his own deathbed, think positively, yes…

 _Bye Hermione…_

 _See you soon, love._

 _Love you, Rosie, love you, Hugo-boy…_

…

Ronald might have been a little disappointed with how he died, not with a bang, but with a whimper, and he really didn't like that his loved ones saw him in his moment of weakness. But death was death. Accept it and move on. No more _Carpe Diem_.

 _Just accept it, old boy._

 _Any moment now._

…

 _Are my eyes closed?_ He tried to open his eyes… all he "saw" was a murky darkness with occasional flashes of redness and muted light. _Maybe we die in stages… Merlin Balls, this horrible._ He could barely move his limbs!

 _What kind of death is this?_

… _Come on! Is this payback for accidently spilling juice on the Cloak that one time? Harry said it didn't stain!_

 _Death? Is that you? …_ He could hear voices… muffled, distant and awfully foreign. He couldn't make words, exactly, but the nuances of tone and pitch still reached him somewhat. _Well fudge… I can't speak at all!_ The mediwitch must have put a bubble head charm on his old mug again, or he was drowning, because he couldn't breathe at all!

 _Am I dying of old age or asphyxiation? Come on!_

… _Does asphyxiation take this long? I thought Hermione said five minutes should do someone in, yet I feel like more time has passed…_

The voices were becoming clearer, he could even make out words now. Unintelligible words, but there was nothing to do while stuck in this limbo for so _long_ that he picked up some of the more repeated sentences… Yet, without context, there was no way he'd be learning a foreign language this easily!

 _Wait… foreign language? Where did this come from?_

" _Watachi no kodomo wa umaku-"_

The Voice gushed. The one he heard the most and would sometimes sing comforting songs to him... They almost sounded like…

 _Nursery rhymes…_

 _Oh Merlin…_

 _Don't tell me…_

Suffice to say, Uchiha Obito came out into the word with a toe curling scream.

...


	5. Frozen x Pokemon

This is a Frozen/Pokemon crossover, in which I wanted a Elsa/Kyurem pairing...

 **Heart of Ice**

Once upon a time there was a queen.

That Queen as fair as freshly fallen snow, and as gentle as delicate ice crystals. She was beloved by her people and protected her kingdom into an era of prosperity.

 _He wasn't natural of that little planet. He's been traveling for years and years through the galaxies and one moment, instead of coursing through stars he was falling, burning, crashing and settling in the midst of a fiery crater._

 _It was the region known as Unova. Back then it was a simple peninsula separated from the continent by large mountain chains. Like a berth, he laid in the crater created by the wake of his fall – Ice seeped from his being, freezing everything around him and isolating him further. He spent thousands of years hidden away while trying to grasp his situation._

 _Then, one odd day he decided to leave._

 _It was his biggest mistake._

A perfect being existing in the balance of yin and yang. He held within him a power almost none could match, and he so foolishly believed in another and lent that person his powers. It marked his destruction as the perfect being he was and started a new era of pain and emptiness.

 _He could never be whole again._

Until fate brought something unexpected.

…

Once upon a time there was a town that existed in the boundary between Time and Space. In that splendorous town there was a tower built to forever separate both yet keep them close enough to make their song resonate.

 _Though harmony didn't last long. One day Alamos Town was the stage of an epic battle that threatened the fabrics of the universe itself – ripples of this fateful meeting between Time and Space reverberated endlessly and created responding vibrations in the multiverse._

 _This had the guardian of the negative realm angered. Angry enough to intervene between the meeting titans and stop them._

No action goes without a response of equal value. As tears spread throughout reality, worlds came so closer together they almost merged.

…

"Your Majesty, the disturbance in the northern mountains has the people restless, our guards can't get close enough…" The Captain responsible for Arendell's capitol security announced with a strange edge in his voice. He was scared, scared of that disturbance and that's why he resolved to risk the Queen advisors' wrath.

"I will go check it out" Elsa answered. The 'disturbance' was a large howling gap in the mountain face. Dark, it spilled forth disembodied voices that screamed the night away – the wind carried the whispers down to the town and brought nightmares to the people. "Please let Princess Anna know"

The assembled ministers nodded resolutely. Having a Snow Queen was truly useful in these mythical, magical situations in which none of them could have been of use. Of course Elsa wasn't a witch, but right now she was their last hope before they'd have to look for a true witch.

Calling forth a couple of knights to escort their Queen, Elsa was ready to go check out the mysterious black hole.

 _Inside, beyond a hazy threshold they twirled, dancing to a forgotten song and spinning to a note they hummed endlessly. Back and forth, high and low, up and down and completing circles. Their forms spelled names, a name they called._ _ **Un…nown… Un… nown…**_ _All around them the universe crumbled to sand. They were scared._

 _A pair of bright ruby red eyes watched their every pulse._

 _Giratina screamed one last time. They pulsed once, twice and in the third time the light they spilled changed colors as their terror grew._

"There is the hole, your highness" One of the knights accompanying Elsa pointed out. The thing was about the size of a double door and seemed as if it was made of night interwoven with stars and exploding galaxies. The howling noise was almost deafening, but Elsa ignored it in favor of the curiosity she felt.

A hypnotic kind of fascination grew in the Queen's heart. Through her eyes the black hole's light was beautiful. Extending a power coated hand, Elsa touched the border with caution tracing her every move. A spark.

 _Something connected with the things on the other side of the portal. A cold wind calming them enough that they were able to_ _ **think**_ _again. The fermenting fear was gone for a moment as they felt the comforting touch in the space around them – their cries became a song again and they wished for the_ _ **something**_ _that touched them and made them orderly again there, always._

Elsa had only a moment to wonder what was happening before she disappeared along with the portal.

…

"What is going on?" The Queen asked no one. Last thing she felt was the wind of the black hole picking up and pulling her in, then a warm cocoon of pressure all around her and the sensation of a thousand butterflies swarming around her, delicate wings brushing her skin once or twice as an ancient melody sounded in accordance to the beat of her heart. "Where am I?"

Those butterflies weren't butterflies at all. Little letter shaped creatures that convulsed and flew like orbiting meteors to an invisible star – no, they were orbiting around her, she could feel their greed as they basked in the cold wake of her powers when her panic and fear grew.

" _We're sorry"_ Whimsical, fleeting, powerful. A thousand pieces that made one bigger consciousness…

 _The Universe roared. The Lord of the Reverse World's rage reached its peak when it felt a foreign presence enter the universe it protected. Something was wrong. Something that shouldn't exist did and was troubling the natural order of things. If the Lord of the Reverse World did nothing to fix it (yet again, its work was never ending) the balance would be lost and the fabric of reality would crumble._

"Why am I here? What's going on?!" Elsa's voice was lost amidst the cries of the swarm. Looking around her was like looking from the inside of a birthing galaxy – there was light pouring from every corner and stars glinting everywhere. "Take me back to Arendell!" Her people needed her, Anna needed her. "Take me back!"

" _We are so, so sorry"_ Echoes again. Elsa balked, falling to her knees as her power gushed in waves – a cold halo freezing the star particles and creating a nebula that encompassed the caging swarm of letters.

And then suddenly, she was falling again.

 _Finding the source of the foreign energy it felt was easy for Giratina, all it had to do was follow the trail of unraveling. The Unown were there – ancient beings who existed in a side plane completely alien to the universe. They had immense power but were easily frightened and when they were scared…_

 _Bad things tended to happen._

 _Looking at them sing and convalesce was entertaining. But Giratina had a goal this time – it wasn't like last time it met the dancing letters, that time it had to separate and punish Time and Space before they destroyed everything – however this time it didn't have the time to leisure as well, for standing there in the center of the pulsing mass was a human woman._

 _Opening a portal underneath her feet was also easy._

 _Giratina watched as the female human fell, asserting the universe was once again corrected._

…

Once upon a time there was a perfect creature. Now that creature has been divested from most of its glory and was now a mere husk of its formal power. One day, while it slept, a mysterious portal opened right in front of it since equal calls to equal and a human woman was spilled from the reverse World.

Opening one yellow eye Kyuurem woke slowly. Icy wind cycled in its cave propelled by the pair of frozen wings on the huge creature's back. It looked like the merge of a reptile and a ship covered in crystal-like rock as skin.


	6. HP x Kuroshitsuji

Ah...! This baby has been collecting dust in my open writing folder, and I thought I'd show it here :)  
I wanted a Sebastian/fem!Harry pairing, and its obviously a HP/Kuroshitsuji crossover.

As warnings go: AU, Violence, Language, Character Death, fem!Harry and OoCness.

Morning: That Witch - I

The arch was just as she remembered. Tall and imposing, with the faint whispering of the dead coming from the other side…

It was like a siren call to the desperate, a haunting embrace to the living and a painful memory to one Mary Juniper Potter.

She stood in the middle of the arch room, the dais on which the death's doorway opened covered with dust.

 _No one even remembers this room anymore._

The thought came and went, along with a deep set sense of nostalgia that swallowed her heart and took what was left of her breath away.

How come they forgot? For so long, the MoM was the pillar of Wizarding society. Then one day, it simply wasn't.

 _I guess time does take away most memories_.

Or at least made them duller.

It has been a chore and a half to infiltrate the abandoned Ministry building, left over from when they moved out to a robust tower built with the upmost technology at the time. The shop that was used as façade for the MoM was luckily at what was considered a slum, with old and decrepit ruins and lurking undesirables.

To think it all started with her victory against Voldemort…

The over dramatic Dark Lord was everything but _subtle_ in his urban guerrilla war fare, and for all they thought muggles oblivious and stupid, they _weren't._ With muggle technology escalating every day to better levels, it was only a matter of time until they found something the Wizardkind wanted to keep hidden.

Little by little, the secret world was being discovered by the mundane.

A dragon' skeleton found buried. Mysterious sighting like that of the Sasquatch became more frequent, strange plants were discovered and new 'animals' catalogued.

To mingle in the muggle world, identity became crucial when everything started to go digital. To the archaic society, it was nightmare because aside from the mugleborn who _did_ have register within the common society, the more recluse witches and wizards did _not_ – nor they wanted to have anything to do with said muggles.

But the Wizardkind was nothing but adaptable.

The changes were gradual, starting with the newly founded Magi-Tech department and ending with the branching of magic into realms of quantum physics, chemistry and biology.

By the time Mary celebrated her thirtieth birthday, there was a whole new world – from large Magical Malls, exclusive condos and a unique ID recognized by the muggle government. They entangled their world so deeply into the mundane one that one magic-less person could live and work with a witch or wizard and never be the wiser because they started to look and act just like their normal neighbor.

The MoM ordered the construction of a skyscraper, opulent and unnecessary, but it did manage to send their own biased message. 'We are taller and better than _you_ '. Or so Mary thought.

Mary herself didn't get left behind.

To start with careers, with the huge changings going on, there were a multitude of options to pick from – she could go into professional Quidditch, or maybe become an Auror like she wanted at first.

In the end, Mary chose to become a doctor, like her grandfather on her mother' side as Aunt Petunia reluctantly revealed on her graduation day, teary eyed and strangely proud. " _At least you managed to become someone your parents could be proud of"_ Was her roundabout way of saying she was proud of her niece as well.

As a doctor, trained both in the muggle and magical ways, Mary found a passion. She simply loved to be useful to people, and this way she could give way to her 'saving people thing' and have a hand in saving a lot of lives in her own way for a long time.

She wasn't naturally book smart, but she covered that with extenuating studying and sheer will power – it helped that her instincts were still razor sharp and she was a practical kind of person.

Time passed quickly.

And in a couple more years, one thing it became painfully obvious.

" _Mary, how do you do it? Your skin is still so smooth! I'm full of wrinkles!"_ Hermione commented when they happily accidently met in the MoM, making a snag snatch at one of Mary's lungs. That was the last drop that made the witch realize that ever since she's took down Voldemort, she wasn't aging like the rest of her friends.

Some people aged gracefully, like McGonnagal, that woman had to be scratching at a hundred and still looked barely over her sixties. Or Luna, that beside a single white streak of hair still had a baby face that made her look about her sons' age even though she was in her forties.

But Mary wasn't getting wrinkled, nor was her hair turning white.

" _For all we think there is no difference between pureblooded wizarding lines and new blooded ones, the purebloods age slightly slower than a normal human… remember that paper by Histor R. Yan? He wrote that the genetic factor that allows us to perform magic can be traced to a pre-biblical era, even connecting to Noah or Methuselah... So it's not really surprising that Mary, your weasel husband and even Longbottom would age slower than you"_ Draco said, answering Hermione since he's been eavesdropping on their conversation at the MoM hall.

He could have been less blunt. But the timely mention to a known scientific article made by a famous geneticist whose life work was dedicated into tracing and studying bloodlines and their connected history.

Hermione left the hall in a huff, bidding Mary adieu and obviously rushing to the nearest computer terminal so she could pull on that supposed research herself. Draco laughed after her sweeping friend, rousing Mary to wave a hand and send a hex at his heels. That shut him up quite fast, though he banished Mary from his house for a weekend – She usually visited with his wife and son since she was his son's godmother.

However fun she had that day, it didn't erase the worrisome thought. As soon as she got into her apartment, the witch tore after the nearest mirror so she could glance freely at her own body. Same skinny limbs, small breasts and lithe torso. Her hair was cut short to chin length and as black as night, not a single trace of silver in sight. The same body she saw everyday – for the last twenty years.

 _Why… Why is this happening to me?_

Mary had to live with this knowledge to herself, and with it, she managed to find ways in which to appear 'normal'. She started to dye a couple of strands gray, one at a time, year after year until she had a full hair of silver.

Using make-up, Mary learned quickly how to emulate wrinkles – she could have used magic, but that was easily dispelled if she was hit with a cancelation spell (in her work area, they were a must in case experimentations went wrong).

Then a hundred years went by. _There is no way I can keep this farce for longer._ Hermione was long gone, her nephews, nieces and god-children all had grandchildren of their own – even the magically powerful Neville was withered and gray. _Time to move on._

But how to move on?

Magical ID was made through one's magic signature – the muggle world has updated their security by leaps and bounds after multiple terrorists attacks left the world shaken – there was no way she'd be able to fake an ID anywhere, she was bound to be found and cataloged as a _freak_ even by magic standards (the Philosophal Stone the last ditch attempt at immortality and it failed epically when one was not Nicolas Flamel).

If she wanted to 'die' there was only one option.

And thus, there she stood in front of her only gate away out of this life. Would she die? Would she meet with Sirius on the other side?

 _Only one way to know._

With one last look at the destroyed room, Mary took a deep breath and stepped through the stone archway.

…

Morning: That Witch - II

After quite a tumble of the century later, Mary found herself completely surrounded by darkness.

It was the damp and stilled kind, almost physical as it silently embraced the witch. If this is what death felt like, she was horribly disappointed. With a sigh and a press of her magic, fairy lanterns winked like light eyeballs opening suddenly, spinning lazily around Mary and spilling light into _whatever this was_.

 _Oh dear… this is going to be spectacularly hard, isn't it?_ _Why can't I die like any other person?_

Was the first thought Mary had when she found herself waking up in the middle of a stone ceremonial hall, complete with jeweled archway from whence she stepped off from and a grand rectangular altar completely covered in runes. The good thing was that the witch was more bewildered and curious than crushingly sad… About you know, not being _dead_ at last…

There were no walls to speak off, only polished rock forming a dome, with the highest right above the altar and the archway slightly behind, surrounded by more runes painted on the ground.

 _Summoning and Containment arrays, this looks like a Faustian ritual gone wrong._

If this was made by muggles, then they were doing a terrible job at playing magicians – her shoes scuffed at some of the lines on the ground, easily smudging the edges and breaking the 'protective' circle. Had any daemon answered, the summoners were toast one way or the other – spending this much on a hoax though they apparently had money to spare, if the silver and gold decorations done in intricate gothic style was any indication.

At any rate, Mary didn't really had room to complain because hope against hope, she wasn't dead, dying or in eminent threat of dying anytime soon. She felt fine, more than fine really.

 _Where is the exit? I could always apparate out, but where is the fun in that?_

She'd always crave for adventure, Mary chuckled quietly under her breath, looking around the cavern once more, finally noticing the narrow wooden door standing a little to her left.

Mary stopped long enough to debate whether she should destroy this room or not. Her face contorted into a grimace – the witch honestly had no wish to return to her old life, and now that she found out she didn't die by traipsing through a death door and was now standing in a brand new place she _had to explore this, damn it._

A twist of her dainty hand had a corona of pale flames flickering along her fingertips. She could lay a spell of fire upon this summoning sect so no one ever had access to it again.

 _Or I can leave this place be, since I don't know what I am burning exactly, and seal the door with a curse so hairy even the Goblins would have trouble going through it._

That was an idea.

Mary curled her fingers, extinguishing the flames as if they were never there to begin with. The cave was as abandoned as it could get – if the slight rot that was taking over the sparse wooden furniture used and the stained gold – that helped alleviate her decision.

A wave of her hand had the door easily unlocking before her. With quick steps, Mary was out the ritual room and closing the passage with as many layers of wards and curses as she could pile without it all collapsing from overload. Her fairy lanterns followed her out so she wasn't in the dark when the path opened into a long and narrow rock carved corridor.

A couple of iron chandeliers held old wax stumps that had to have been candles one day – the floor was humid and slippery, and the air was quite heavy. There was a strange scent floating through the tunnel though, between the smell of mold, earth and dust, existed an underlining of blood that made the hairs on Mary's arms stand on end.

 _The blood smells fresh. Just what is this place?_

Leery about what she was supposed to find at the end of the tunnel, the witch was confident enough not to fear anything. Her powers and control were out the charts even by Wizarding' standards, what could a couple of rich muggle cultists do to her? Well, they obviously were doing unsavory things with something or _someone_ if the smell of blood was this strong.

Continuing for a few more steps, Mary stopped at the end of the passage where a sliver of light managed to get through the wooden barrage blocking the tunnel's passage. A shiver of excitement rose up again when the sound of voices reached her make-shift hiding place.

"Are you sure this plan will work?" A woman hissed odiously. Mary poked the rotten wood lightly, making it crumble into dust as her fingers burned through it creating a peeping hole. What she saw had the witch clinching her teeth together. A high set stone table, with a bleeding young man strapped to it… he was still alive if the rise and fall of his chest was any indication "I don't fancy being tried for treason, most of all by that arrogant little tart!" The one who spoke was a pretty dusty brown haired woman with sharp blue eyes.

"She's under Lehzen and Melborne's thumb. They will suspect something is wrong, and that's what we're counting on" A man. Familiar. She's seen his face somewhere. Both male and female were wearing what seemed like pre-victorian outfits, full of lace and high heels.

"I hope you stand correct James, I'd hate to have another scandal like that of Kensington on my shoulders"

Mary's eyes widened.

 _Pre_ - _Victorian clothing, James as in Sir James Clark, royal physician in the time Queen Victoria ascended to the throne… Did I travel back in time?_

In her studies, Mary read an article about Sir James. He was a wizard who was consecrated a knight by King William and worked as a consultant healer in the palace – a Doctor's facade to the muggles, but the Royal Family and the Prime Minister are always kept aware of the Magical World.

Why was a famous Wizard figure consorting with a strange woman in this awful forsaken place?

"Then do not hope, believe." Sir James moved his hands, pulling Mary's attention to a third figure that so far was not noted by the witch. "This is Dr. Elijah Munroe, his is the idea that had me acting up this soon"

The Doctor was a short, stout man who moved too quickly and too spasmodically to be a convincingly good Doctor. His beady blue eyes were hidden behind a gold monocle and he had a mustache a la Vernon Dursley, curling under rosy plump cheeks.

"Don't doubt me! Three days after you drink this potion, your stomach will grow as if you were with child. If you've been following the plan, then I trust the appropriate rumors have been started with Conroy by now. You should be spoken of as his mistress by the circles our debuted Queen frequents."

 _Damn! I need to know what is going on, but if I delay anymore, that man is going to die!_

Lips drawn into a frown, Mary curled her hands in preparation. She took a long look at the dark haired young man. His whole abdomen was open and blood dripped in a steady stream down the table. If she was going to act, she was going to have to be quick.

Mary drew in a gulp of air and willed her magic to swirl around her in a gust of air – the effect was almost instantaneous. Short night colored hair lengthened and lightened to a crisp autumn color reminiscing of her own mother, grass eyes darkened to a deep brown and her nose changed shapes… To make the glamour more convincing, the witch simply twisted her DNA to reflect left over traces of her parents.

With her new face, no one would recognize her, so still using the conjured whirlwind of magic, Mary blasted through the flimsy wooden door and filled the next room with her power. The woman screeched in fright, darting to hide behind Sir James who pulled out his sword in alarm. The parody of a Doctor's eyes gleamed, before he too jumped behind the stone table that held the young man.

"She came from the sealed room!" Sir James yelled, a trace of fear tinting his voice. "Flora, get back!"

Sir James Clark and a woman named Flora. _The pieces are falling together. Flora Hastings – died of…_

 _Liver Cancer…_

The words Doctor Elijah Munroe's came back to mind. _A potion that would have made her look pregnant in only a couple of days._ Mary's eyes darkened. This happened in history, it was written down as the first shame Queen Victoria had to endure in her long reign

Flora Hastings was having a supposed affair with a nobleman, after a while, everyone noticed her enlarging abdomen and her consultations with the court's physician, Sir James Clark, who kept his silence claiming vows of silence. That started a wheel of gossip that reached the young queen Victoria and her tutor, Lady Louise Lehmen. The young queen followed her mentor's advice and shamed Flora publically. Not wanting to have her name even more blemished, Flora agreed to a deeper examination and the truth was found.

She wasn't pregnant, she was diagnosed with liver cancer and died 3 months after that – sullying Victoria's earlier reign with the following scandal. It took years for the queen to take back control and regain respect, but in the end, Victoria developed a keen sense that allowed her formidable control over England during the period of almost a century.

It had to happen… but that man strapped down to the table didn't have to die.

The witch didn't know a lot of history beside big key points, so she wasn't exactly sure, but there was absolutely _no_ mention of Sir James Clark, a respectable doctor and wizard aiding in this coup and consorting with Satanists in an underground cult.

Mary's hand twisted down, sending a wave of raw magical power strong enough to knock both Sir James and Lady Flora. They flung across the archaic surgical room and slammed hard against the wall. James' tried to stand back on wobbly legs, but couldn't amass the strength and blacked off beside the crumpled form of his accomplice.

"Are you a demon?" Doctor Munroe asked interestedly in a bright tone of voice that filled Mary's lungs with ice. "Years and years studying that damned portal, all the sacrifices and rituals we performed, thousands of experiments, everything and what comes out is you! Demon! Listen to I, Elijah Munroe of the Black Order, as a representative you shall do as I command!"

Sneering, the witch eyed the young man's body once more. His breathing was getting too shallow to be good. Anger seized her being. _Demons_? They were really using that room to summon demons? Even the most daft of wizards wouldn't _dare_ to call upon such uncontrollable beings. Voldemort didn't even **thought** about it.

Her aura flashed, the tornado of power waned for a single second before exploding outward. "I would never obey you foolish man! The one who will obey me is you, and you will lay on the floor and remain there" Mary ordered, forcing her magic down on the now shivering Doctor and pressing his face against the cold and wet ground, painfully grinding his cheeks on the gravel until he was unconscious.

She's never taken a life before, so she wouldn't start with some pathetic little man who might have an important role in history. After all, Flora Hasting had to die of cancer somehow and this man was the "key" to that with his "potion".

 _Now that the worms are taken care of, let's see about you here_. She thought silently to the young strapped man.

Mary drifted toward the stone table where the man was. The wound on his abdomen was even more hideous than she'd imagine. She was getting an awful eyeful of his internal organs and he was continuously losing blood.

"Merlin's top hat! How are you still alive?!" The witch didn't waste any more time, sending onslaught of healing magic using her medical knowledge to stitch him up from the inside. Her mage sight was telling rather gruesome things as well. His liver was the one that suffered the most damage, cut into until it was nothing but a crude, pulsating mess of blood.

 _They've been draining his liver's blood! It was most likely used in that liver cancer inducing potion._

The chances of this man surviving was slim, even with her magic helping, he has lost too much blood. "Come on! Don't give up on me!" Mary chanted, pouring so much of her magic that the strain was making beads of sweat form on her forehead. The man's torso was looking a lot better, with his liver whole again and all the bits in their place. There was no more bleeding, though his heart was one spluttering pitiful sight with so little blood to pump.

"There is no use, sweetheart, he's going to kick the bucket any time now" The new voice snapped Mary's head up. Forest green eyes met acidic green. Both hidden behind glasses… Those new pair of eyes belonged to a tall, dark haired man dressed in an impeccable suit. He was also wielding a pair of… hedge trimmers?

The feeling she got from this guy was also surreal. "What are you?" The witch rasped, increasing the output of healing magic in answer to the newcomer statement.

 _This person feels like… like…_

"Oh dear, we have a pretty powerful cricket here, don't we? Do not worry, he is not lasting longer now" He said, pulling a small book from the creases of his suit and checking something in it. "In answer to your question, I suppose you can say I am _Death_ "

The body below her was almost completely healed. _Please be out of danger, out of danger, out of danger…_ "Death? You're Death?"

A dark eyebrow rose. He seemed amused at seeing her attempts at saving the victim's life. "Do you want to know how he dies? He dies of cardiac arrest induced by the shock his body can't handle"

Mary closed her eyes for a second. She's beaten death time and time again, even now when her body was immortal she's pulling one over death. But here it (he?) was, holding a book and hedge trimmers in hands and looking as smug as was possible. Her brain was skipping thoughts, adrenaline coursing through her veins was heightening the flight or fight instinct and she has always been the fighting type.

Then, as if mocking her, the man she's been healing convulsed sharply. Blue, blue eyes snapped open and faced Mary directly. Under her hands, his heart was failing after a long fight for life that her mage sight confirmed was coming to halt. Even if she could restart his heart, it would only be a matter of time before it gave completely since she didn't have the means with which to give him blood.

Just as blue eyes closed and he gave a last breath, his recently mended chest was stabbed through with the Death's trimmers. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Mary screamed, seeing all her hard work going down the drain. Magic swirled around her and just as it happened with Sir James, Flora and Munroe, slammed into the entity calling itself Death, pushing him with punishing force away from the moribund man's body.

 _I couldn't save him! But I won't let you, who say you're Death, desecrate his body like this!_

Face showing just how enraged she felt, Mary kept holding Death to the ground, increasing the gravity around him and making it virtually impossible to stand back up. When she was sure he wouldn't be able to try anything funny, the witch grasped the handle of the gardening scissors and tossed them back to their owner. Blood arched away from the blades, and that was when Mary truly understood their meaning.

Cinematic ribbons. Forming out of each and every drop of remaining blood. From the man's now reopened chest to the splattering the hedge trimmers made as they landed by their owner's face.

Coughing due to the effort, the restrained Death was glaring at Mary intensely. "Do not treat my Death Scythe so carelessly! Can you see their magnificent power? It allows us Death Gods to see and judge a soul's life in death!" Inwardly intrigued, Mary ignored the frothing Death and was watching as the cinematic ribbons curled, forming a ghostly screen where scenes began playing out.

" _This is little Leander? My my, he looks just like his daddy!" A disembodied voice drifted._ _ **My earlier memories were filled with my Aunt Fleur saddened face and my parents trying to accommodate her.**_

" _Doesn't he? You will grow to be just like Vincent, will you not my precious nephew?" Aunt Fleur was a beautiful, lively woman, with flowing blond hair and the bluest eyes._ _ **She's the one who raised me while my parents were always away on 'business' for ten years, until her sadness was too much and she died of grief.**_

" _Oh my poor Leander, I know how close you were with your aunt. Your father and I will strive to be there for you" His mother's beautiful dark hair, the same shade as his own blocked his vision as she hugged him to her chest, pressing his nose against her neck._

" _I also want to start training you to take over the family business. I expect nothing but diligence from my heir… the work the Earldom of Phantomhive has to do needs to be taken seriously, if not, it will mean you have forfeit your life"_ _ **My father was very strict with me. I learned quickly that Phantomhive children grew up fast. Time passed and when I came of age, I was asked to court Lady Claudia Ferrester with whom I fell in love with.**_

 _Lady Claudia was a strict beauty. With wheat colored hair and navy blue eyes. Leander traveled to her family' state where he met with her along with her elder brother, Ciel Ferrester… Their courtship was a short one since the lady also fell in love with him._ _ **Claudia and I married the month after I came of age. She was sixteen, and on her eighteenth birthday we confirmed the oncoming birth of my firstborn.**_

 _His father passed a little before his heir's birth. His work as a Phantomhive finally claimed his life when he suffered an assassitation. Insurgents from South Africa that had a bone to pick with newly crowned Queen Victoria aimed a blow at her 'guard dog' hoping to weaken her defenses before the diamond trade was compromised._ _ **My father's death meant I had to take the mantle of a Phantomhive, we are part of a selective group seen as evil noblemen, because of our work underground.**_

 _The birth of Leander first child brought him a lot of joy in the muddled and conflicted world he became a part of. The gruesome cases he had to work in the name of the king were tiring his emotional energy._ _ **The baby born was a little girl named Francis after Claudia's grandmother. She had her mother's light hair. Two years after that, we were expecting our second child, this time a boy we named Vincent.**_

 _A little boy with midnight colored hair and the same blue eyes of his mother. That was Vincent, raised under his mother's wing as a spoiled noble boy, while his little girl Francis proved her mastery with the sword by becoming champion in the circuits. Francis' Phantomhive blood was strong, but Vincent proved to be a lot more cunning when he wanted to._ _ **They are my family and I love them dearly. So I hired a bodyguard to protect them when Queen Victoria ascended. She has a lot of enemies and they won't hesitate if the opportunity presents itself. Mr. Tanaka better take care of them.**_

 _A shift in the scenes and now Leander stood in his mansion's foyer, reading a letter. The Queen's mentor wrote, asking him to investigate Lady Flora Hastings and her activities after Kensington scandal._ _ **I followed the lead given to me by an old family friend**_ _the face of a white haired man with poisonous green eyes flashed briefly_ _ **to a clinic in the middle of London. There I was ambushed and then…**_

Mary blinked, thrown back into reality with a sharp jerk of perception dizziness. Her mind worked overtime to comprehend what was going on, who the man was, the family he had waiting for him at home.

 _He has a son and a daughter that will never see him again._

Grief filled the witch momentarily, making her eyes glaze.

"So you can see the cinematic records" The Death God's amused voice jerked Mary's eyes back to his crouched form. "It is done, I've seen his life and judgment awaits him. Will you let me do my job now?" Numbly, the witch revoked the spell she had on Death. He rose to his feet, dusting his suit while shooting her another smirk. "Thank you" He spoke sarcastically.

Teeth grinding together, Mary sneered at the personification of Death, still not believing he used a pair of hedge trimmers as a death scythe. With her mage sight, she could actually see the man's brilliant soul leaving the cooling body when Death's hand pulled it out. It made something in Mary crack with a sudden realization.

 _I've never seen anything like this back home. They (the Wizards) would have written about something like this, and aside from Tales of Bettle the Bard, there are no mentions of Death as an entity at all._

"Who are you anyway?" Death asked, finishing his 'job'. "Since you didn't really kill or maim me, I guess I should tell you my name… I am Jacob Sunders, 66th Death senior office." He pulled out a stamper and pressed into one of the book's pages. _Complete._

"My name is Mary Potter, and I am a Witch…" She answered without hesitation. At his shrewd look, her eyes narrowed. "I have nothing to do with his place! This apparently belongs to a Dark cult bent on summoning Demons – all I did was make use of their portal"

Jacob Sunders studied her for a moment, adjusting his glasses in a way that made his eyes gleam. Mary frowned right back. "This will give me a heck worth of paperwork… Unless I keep your charming presence a secret from the office, of course"

Unperturbed, Mary simply shrugged sending the clear message that she didn't care either way. All she wanted right now was to take Leander Phantomhive's body back to his family safely. "Then why don't you go on your way?"

"Right. Snippy. I will be going now. Stay out of trouble witchy!" Jacob saluted, taking a step back and falling through a hole that wasn't there before. Mary used her mage sight to make sure he disappeared, seeing the hole the Death God created just stitch itself back rendering reality back into the way it was.

Sighting, Mary looked toward the dead body, before sliding her eyes to the three fallen ones. At this point, Flora Hastings was already sick since she's taken the potion. Sir Clark would be sacrificed to her schemes and shamed along with Victoria and her court.

The only one who didn't count into anything was the Doctor. But when Mary turned to regard his form, she's realized too late that he wasn't there.

 _Damn it!_

Was her last thought before everything went black.

Morning: That Witch - III

There was a thrum of power.

It whiskered against her senses like a shy little bird just fluttering by. Mary felt completely numb. She couldn't move or even think straight, it was like her whole being froze in a moment in time and everything else ceased to exist.

But there was that thrum again. A calling. Mercilessly invading her peace with its insistence. Slowly, crawly across her skin, inch by inch as that call returned her to consciousness, senses returning one by one.

 _What happened?_

Last thing she remembered was going through the veil of death, thinking she could finally find peace in forever sleep's embrace and then finding herself inside another room. She explored a little, discovering she's actually stumbled into the middle of a Faustian summoning sect hidden underground. She saw history unraveling in front of her very eyes when an apparently muggle Sir James Clark committed treason against a recently ascended Queen Victoria alongside Flora Hastings and a Doctor…

 _That bloody arse!_

A sharp pain to the back of her head and then lights out for the witch…

Next she's waking up here, wherever this is.

She couldn't see and her body wouldn't obey her so Mary opened her third eye and _saw_ her own body. Magically she was alright but… Feet, legs, hands, arms, shoulders, torso, abdomen, neck and head in check. Her stomach was terribly tight with hunger, and when she tried to take a breath, she found she wasn't able to.

 _Don't panic. You've been in this position for Merlin knows how long and you aren't dead so it is obvious not being able to breathe won't harm you._

But it was habit. And not having air rushing into her lungs in a constant motion was daunting and frightening. Distressed, Mary continued to use her Mage sight to access her situation more deeply.

 _This… is sick… revolting…_

What she found was… on another level of depraved. Her body has been literally bathed in silver. It created a fine sheet of the metal all over her skin, dipping into creases and into her nose, ear and mouth, completely embalming her body into a living statue. She was frozen into a bent position, naked save for the silver coating.

Soon, fear gave way to rage. Magic cackled around her in a show of sparks and power and Mary willed the silver to melt away from her. It was fast. One minute she was bent into her statue form and the other she was lying sprawled on the floor in the middle of a melted silver pool.

 _That calling. It was what 'woke' me up._

She took a breath, for a moment, it was all her body allowed her to do.

The witch then remembered the feeling of the strange, soft pull that broke her conscience to the front and freed her from that horrible frozen state. When she was a little bit more coherent, Mary was able to identify that soft brush as ambience magic being brought forth in a colossal surge somewhere close by if the left over shock waves were enough to rouse her from the metal prison.

After crying silver tears and removing all traces of it from her insides – no time to be embarrassed – Mary willed to existence a fine silken robe to cover herself with, nothing flashy, but a pleasant dark green color that would blend well into the shadows should she abscond to it in hiding. After she felt safer, Mary took the time to analyze where she was.

She was standing on a pedestal in the middle of a corridor. At her sides were other 'statues' adorning the nooks by a couple of windows, men and women lined up in various poses, always provocative and giving the vile impression of being _alive_. Mary couldn't feel any life coming from them though, so she guessed that unlike her, they didn't have magic protecting them.

Nor were they immortal.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" The still auburn haired witch asked out loud, brushing a hand against the marbled wall to get a feeling for the place's layout. Power responded to her urging and soon she had a mental map of the rather large mansion she found herself being a statue at. Her special map was also positively pulsing where the surge of raw magic was being called from.

 _It seems every living being in this house is located at the basement!_

Without her noticing, the glamour she was under for Merlin knows how long dissolved, freeing her true appearance in the process. Mary staggered, the gravitational center of her body changed, and when she looked down she wished her magic was able to hold just a little more.

"I look like a wraith… How long did I spend sleeping as a statue?" Her arms were bone thin, she could probably play xylophone with her ribs and her legs were on the verge of giving out beneath her pathetic weight. "That man is going to pay when I put my hands on him!" Mary swore under her breath.

Elijar Munroe would suffer a thousand times worse than the humiliation he's put her through. The cunning little worm managed to hit her from behind and render her useless. How much time has passed for her to be this emaciated? Even under the Dursley's _tender_ care and the pathetic amount of food they allowed her, her magic was able to keep her relatively healthy.

Determined to get to the bottom of whatever corruption of rationality was going on – _where are the Wizards? I can't feel any on a fifty miles radius –_ and – _Why is there such a powerful source of magic suddenly active beneath this mansion?_

Her first step faltered when she almost tripped down due to muscle weakness. An injection of magic down her legs solved temporarily the problem. She'd have a heck of a hard time re-training her muscles and gaining weight again. But slowly and surely, Mary made her way to a barraged door which her mental map was telling led to the underground room.

An annoyed wave of her hand and the door was blasted open with all the finesse a pissed off witch could achieve.

And what she found was even worse than even Voldemort's wildest, cruelest imagination.

Cages upon cages of malnourished looking children… all dead… And as her eyes swept up the circular, theater like room and all the richly dressed men sitting there and observing what was happening in the middle dais like they were in a circus. Disgust made her painfully empty stomach heave.

 _These… barbarians! They're sacrificing children!_

Indeed, at the moment, a small boy with dark colored hair so dirty it wasn't really possible to discern much. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and just as skeletal like the previous children – he must have a steel willpower to be able to resist until now.

"NO! DON'T YOU DARE DO IT!"Mary screamed with all her might, starting a shockwave of angry power that swept down the pews. She wasn't fast enough yet again and ended up bearing witness to one of the ugliest things she's ever seen in her pretty long life.

Not able to handle much more, Mary's last thought was how much she hated these muggles right now, and that they would finally receive deliverance for what they were doing…

Summoning demons, pff…

…

"So… you are finally waking up" A silken voice alerted Mary to the extra presence next to her.


	7. HP x LotR

Another crossover. Another obvious one. Enjoy!

Notes: Chêne means oak in French. Its fem!Harry's name. and I might have used the prologue in another story.. dunno if I posted it, but well.

And I can't remember the pairing! Its been that long! See if you guys can guess it for me, lol!

 **Debt Paid In Full.**

 **XxxXxxX**

 **Chapter 01: The Oak, the Oaken and Chêne.**

 **XxxXxxX**

 _2939._

The night was young but dark, thick, heavy clouds obscuring the usually bright moon, making shadows longer and the path trickier.

To a single figure hiking up the clear path cut through the forest, it was a sign that he should stop and camp – though the nearest settlement was close hours away should he continue to walk.

Before the prospect of having shelter against the cold, possibly rainy night, the figure was spurred to walk even if he sorely wanted to stop and rest. He has not been traveling for long, making his way down the Blue Mountains to Dunedain's lands of Artherdain in search of work amongst the now somewhat nomadic descendants of Numenor.

But just as he was crossing a particularly difficult bridge that has seen better days, he came across an old, majestic oaken tree at the end of said bridge over the river Baranduin. The oak stood proud and quite old by the thick, sturdy body.

Sensing a calling, the figure carefully made his way to the oak, finding in the space before its trunk right under the canopy of leaves what must have been the scraps of a recent camp, and the oak tree marked by Westron letters – this was a land mark, the figure realized, relaxing – it meant he was closer to the Dunedain settlement than he expected.

It was quite a comfortable spot to stop and camp. The oak was atop a small hill that gave undisputed sight over the bridge and a large protection from behind.

Should he wish it, he could climb the thick limbs and slumber unperturbed – though it _was_ cold, and he _was_ a Dwarrow, so he'd be keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground and his hide warm around a fire.

So he set to dig the remains of the old camp, tossing the damp earth away from the already circled pit and piling relatively dry firewood so he could light it. The spark of fire resisted catching in such difficult conditions, but he persevered and in the end, had a nice and burning flame eagerly chasing the chill away from him.

He stopped once or twice to think if reaching the settlement wouldn't have been better than camping, but his feet were weary after a whole day worth of travel, and should luck have it, he'd be with civilization before noon – with even better luck, they'd be in need of a blacksmith. Dunedain usually were _always_ in need of blacksmiths, often going as far as the Blue Mountains in search of good, Dwarrow ones – though just as often, the Men folk went to the Elves of Imladris.

In any other situation, he'd never be lowering himself to this decree. It itched horribly with his pride that he had to prowl and search for work like common folk. But these times he _needed_ it, every Dwarrow needed. From fierce metal merchants and miners, without their home mountain they were simply wandering folk. It's been almost six decades since… well… he lost everything, and something was telling him to be prepared.

Shaking his head, he sighed. He was far from humble. But just like any other Dwarrow, he had a craft – his so happened to be forgery – and he was proud of it. His hands were rough and callused from work, and his spirit wizened thanks to it.

Now all he had to do was laden his pockets with gold for his sister and her sons needed the help. His people weren't doing much better.

But that wasn't something he was willing to brood over for right now... just as he was getting cozy on a pile of dried leaves and his fur coat, he heard something. A soft, weak _hoot_. He'd have disregarded it as any other sound coming from the woods, but this call came from far too close.

"An owl?" His voice sounded raspy out of days of disuse. Who'd he talk with but the bushes and flowers when he was traveling alone? The hoot sounded again, and the figure started to look up the oak branches from his nest of leaves and fur out of curiosity for the loud bird.

There, a rather large horned owl, huddled against the main branch and shivering. The light of the fire reflected in its vivid green eyes, and that's when he caught the glittering red caused by the dancing flames' light reaching the smudge of blood on the creature's right wing.

An arrow. Piercing the horned owl's wing right at the shoulder and causing rivets of blood to drip down otherwise smooth feathers. A sense of pity rose in his chest. With that wound, the owl would be dead come sunrise from blood loss.

"Got caught by the Rangers, did you owl?" He spoke to the bird, listening to the answering _hoot_ and finding himself quite silly for thinking it actually understood him. Bright green eyes were trailed directly on his. "Hop down here if you can, I will bind that wing of yours" He spoke gruffly, still not believing that an owl would be able to understand him – he was not a bird whisperer, as far as he knew.

Above them, the sky let out quite the fearsome rumble.

Lightening flashed through dusky clouds like a bright, fiery serpent cutting the sky loose.

The owl winced, shuffling from foot to foot, not daring to flap its wings. But with one last searching look at _him_ , the bird seemingly braced itself to the pain and using a single wing for balance, tumbled down the oak to land awkwardly on the ground in front of his furs.

Startled, the figure looked down at the bird, meeting its' large green orbs once more. It was clearly pained and scared, but trusting him enough… or was it desperate? Blood dripped down its torn wing to pool on the grass. It was a _big_ owl, bigger than any he's seen before. "I am no healer, bird" He told his prompt winged companion.

The arrow went straight through the strong musculature at the base of the creature's wings, biting into the soft flesh of its torso and pinning the wing to the body in what must be a very painful way. The challenge would be removing the arrow from the bird without startling it.

"Don't move" He ordered the bird. To his surprise, the creature nodded intelligently to his words. Maybe it was a trained owl? If it was, he'd take it to the settlement and return it to its owner if he or she lived there. Though training owls sounded like a pointless thing only an Elf would do – in that case, he'd better ignore the bird's owner and have it go free once he finished biding the wound.

Why was he doing this again? A glance at the spirited green hues of the bird's eyes told him why. An act of kindness… to a bird… what a time to find his heart compassionate… A grimace on his face, he tore a frayed strip out of his own tunic to use as a bind.

With delicately careful hands that belied all the strength he could wield, he grabbed hold of the arrow's plume and broke the shaft. His patient didn't give a peep, even though the jostle that must have aggravated its wound.

"You're one brave bird" He told the owl, feeling less silly about conversing with an animal. Intelligent eyes slightly clouded in pain, but still managed to convey _feelings_ to him – he must be going mad with loneliness if he was projecting this much into an owl of all things. "Now let us free this wing"

Carefully maneuvering the limb, he managed to free it from the arrow still lodged in the bird' side. Blood spilled from the hole in new vengeance, and he had to stop to crudely bind the twin punctures with the dirty rag he took off his clothes. That done, it was time to rip off the arrow.

The bird's eyes found his once more as if it knew what was about to happen, it didn't look like it liked its' future a lot.

…

"Chêne!" A loud, desperate voice sounded through the camp under the oak. "Chêne! Where are you?! CHÊNE!" The calls were coming closer and closer. The owl, who must have dozed off sometime into the night stirred, as did the owl' savior… He was none too pleased about the rude wake-up-call… A quick look around told him that day hasn't even dawned yet.

 _Hoot._ The owl cried out in agitation. It was reacting to the voice that woke them both.

"Are you Chêne, you troublemaking owl?" He asked his feathered companion – he shouldn't have been surprised when the bird nodded, blinking its large malachite colored eyes up at him and _Hooting_ again.

"Chêne! Oh by Merlin! Chêne!" Soon, a Man appeared. He was rugged in that Dunedain way, with storm colored eyes, long dark hair and a scruffy beard – he looked to be around his late thirties, or early forties, but with man-folk he was never able to tell the difference – most of which the Rangers who inherited their longer life spams from their Numeronians ancestry.

The owl hobbled painfully on its taloned feet until the Man, with a weary glance toward the _traveler_ , picked the bird up and inspected the make-shift bandage around the wounded wing and torso.

"Thank you, thank you master Dwarf" The man bowed his head, eyes brimming with tears as he cuddled the large owl to his chest like it was a babe – the bird let him, soaking up the attention! "My name is Sirius Black, and this is my daughter Chêne"

Well… that certainly was awkward.

"Your daughter?" Derision colored his voice.

Sirius nodded, chin against the bird's head. "It counts little if you believe about Chêne… you saved her life, that is what really matters" Then, he seemed thoughtful. "You are on your way to the Settlement, let us go together"

Not seeing any problems, the Dwarrow nodded briefly. "Very well"

They spent an hour in silence – though the Man, Sirius, was having a very _interesting_ glaring match against his 'daughter'.

"Please Master Dwarf, allow us to begin to thank you by offering you a place in our home" Sirius, still carrying his 'daughter' spoke to the dwarf who saved her life. They were walking back the path that led to the settlement, where Sirius apparently lived. The well maintained road was easier to appreciate during sunlight hours.

"Thorin" He spoke curtly, feeling a whole lot more nonsensical about the Man who adopted an owl as his child. He also felt no need to share a roof with such a _troubled_ folk – he'd be just as fine renting a room in an Inn or living in the forgery or workshop if they had one there. "No need" Thorin replied to the offer, scowling darkly.

Sirius reeled, the owl in his arms _hooted_. "No no no, you don't understand. You _must_ allow us to repay you, rather than leaving the debt open. Our house is quite large, we can accommodate you comfortably. A hearth, some food and a roof, let us provide those for you while you stay on this side of the Evendin"

"No! I did not expect a reward for saving a bird's life!" He didn't even _know_ why he did it! Those large green orbs still persisted on straying to him.

"A bird?" The raven haired Man traded looks with his owl. The bird pecked at his leather vest and Thorin suddenly had the feeling that they were silently conversing. It didn't sit well with him. "I suppose Chêne _is_ rather bird shaped right now… she is no common owl though, so her life is worth a lot more than a common bird's!" Sirius argued, careful of his feathered burden.

The Dwarf took another look at the puffing bird. It was looking kind of peaky after the massive trial it went through last night, but it still managed to catch him off guard. "An intelligent owl, but none the less still a bird" Thorin stonily pointed out. He might have been inclined to share the Man's home before such a nice and perseverant invite – but he suspected more and more said Man's lack of sanity.

The Man stopped walking. "You did save Chêne's life…" he spoke, prompting Thorin to stop out of sheer impatience at Sirius. "I suppose it's only fair that you know the magnitude of what that represents to us" The owl was gently placed on the ground.

Then, as naturally as flowers bloomed every spring, where the owl once stood, sat a skinny, dark haired young woman clutching at her arm and shoulder – _that still had his rag wrapped around!_ – And a _very_ annoyed mien to her upturned lips.

 **XxxXxxX**

 **Chapter 02: Trips, tripping and the tripped.**

 **XxxXxxX**

 _She certainly didn't expect that when she bravely (stupidly) threw herself head first through the Veil of Death after her godfather._

 _At the time, with blood pumping furiously through her veins and adrenalin making every movement last an eternity – all she could see was Sirius Black, haloed by the blast coming from his cousin Bellatrix LeStrange's wand, cantering toward the deadly doorway. The flimsy curtains wisping around as if to grab his body in a deathly hug, face pale and pained in a silent scream that never left his throat._

 _Chêne's eyes met with her beloved godfather's – the closest and fondest family member she had left. Behind her gaping eyelids, memories of their time together played unbidden. Of his large, protective hand caressing her head after a nightmare (on the nights she's stayed in Grimmald Place) or the way his eyes simply lit up when he spoke of better times. The multiple times they shared hot-cocoa by the fireplace, or the late night conversations – Iliana lobbed on Sirius all the fatherly love she craved, and he gave back in kind._

 _Her slightly insane, horribly vindictive but well-loved godfather that she'd never see again if she allowed him to go through the veil._

 _Dainty hands shot out – they were hers. She could see by the terrible manicure, Unbridge scars and bony knuckles – they were her hands and they were making their way toward Sirius. Her legs didn't take long on catching up, and suddenly everything was in motion again._

 _The room spun, faces passed through her sight range. Friends and foes all blurred into one mad picture framed by Bellatrix's deranged cackles… "_ _ **I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!**_ _" She sang again and again, the sound echoed in Chêne's head and spurring her fraying nerves into_ _ **action**_ _._

 _Sirius body dived backwards into the Veil almost bonelessly. His quicksilver eyes were already glassy, as if all hope has left him in a single moment. Iliana was darting forward. She'd reach him in time – she_ _ **would**_ _,_ _ **had**_ _to reach him in time. Hands extended, it seemed as if they were both floating in an endless second in which everything was frozen in expectant climax._

 _Cold, numb fingers grasped instinctively at her own scarred hand. Sirius' eyes flickered momentarily, before horror enveloped his face – Chêne's belly flip-flopped, her hand tightened around her godfather's when she felt he was about to let go. They would fall together into obliviousness._

" _No! Chêne! Chêne_ _ **let go**_ _!" Remus' voice came like a thunder hammer. Cutting and sending a jolt through her bones. But it was too late. Just as Sirius was disappearing into the Veil of Death, Chêne was nose-diving into it right after him._

"Chêne! Grab my hand!" After what seemed like years, she heard Sirius' cry and opened her eyes to dizzily stare at the boring, confusing tunnel – Sirius was now falling just a little bit ahead of her, looking compressed, as if all his mass has been turned into a 2D picture. Her hands shot out, reaching for him and they clasped at each other arms. "Hold on!" Her godfather wrapped her securely in his arms, right before she understood what he had planned.

Sirius kicked his legs wildly, as if he was swimming. Chêne clung to his chest, freeing his arms and also started to kick her legs – risking a peek from over his shoulder and his mass of curly hair, she saw what had him so excited.

A doorway. Barred, and made of a brilliant material that remotely looked like wood. But it was something other than the infinite falling – and it was a better prospect than what could possibly be at the end of the fall. Hell? With her arms around Sirius' neck and both of them doing their best to 'swim' toward the door, it didn't take long for her taller godfather to snatch a hold of the doorframe.

"What do we do now?" Chêne asked a little out of breath. Sirius' face was beading with sweat, and he was trying to regain his bearings.

"I don't know. Knock?" The raven haired man huffed – he didn't really mean to snap, but he was a bit stressed… so he just adjusted his hold on his goddaughter and pressed them against the shining door. Chêne, in a desperate mood, shifted a bit, wrapping her legs around Sirius and using one of her hands to knock on the door anyway.

"It might work" The girl pointed out when her godfather threw her an exasperated look.

There was no handle to be seen, but to their anxious surprise, a few seconds after Chêne's knock, someone actually answered the door.

…

 _2935._

"Where are we?" A short, skinny raven haired girl asked her taller companion. They looked alike, sharing the same jawline and the same hair color.

The male looked down at his charge with a furrowed brow. "How am I supposed to know?" He grouched. The girl glared at him and crossed her arms. "Better yet, why are you here? I thought I fell through the veil…" He stopped. The girl winced guiltily. "Chêne, you didn't…"

"I might have jumped after you… I hope Remus isn't blaming himself"

"Remus?" His eyes were on her, then they were scanning the ruins they found themselves in. The doorway opened into thin air, leading to a vast plain covered in the remains of what must have been a glorious city once upon a time.

"He tried to restrain me from going after you" Chêne confessed, scuffing her feet on the ground and avoiding looking at her godfather. "I couldn't just let you go, I just met you, you're the only family I have" her voice was thankfully even.

"Chêne… do you have any idea of what you… no… You don't, do you?" The shaggy haired male started pacing impatiently. "Did you, or did you not listen to the prophecy?"

The girl's face closed into a thunderous expression. "Is that what you're worried about? That I was supposed to _die_ in order to bring Voldemort down? That is hardly fair! This way we're in _together_ Padfoot, wherever this is"

Thinking about her hasty decision to jump after her godfather through a mystical doorway that could lead them to certain death made Chêne cringe in shame… She wasn't thinking about the friends she left behind, nor the mess the Wizarding world would be with no one to act as escape goat…

On another hand, maybe jumping after Sirius was a good idea after all…

"Merlin, what a mess we're in!" The man pulled the girl to him, snuggling her cold cheeks against his chest. "I'm glad you're here with me little fawn… I'm glad" His slight stubbled chin rested on top of her dark, messy hair. "At least we're not dead"

That's a good thing, no matter what, both found.

A pair of bright green eyes joined steely grey in the task of observing their surroundings after their owner took a deep breath. "Well Padfoot, I don't see anything familiar" Chêne pointed out. The ruins were made of a type of stone that neither of them have ever seen before, plus the architecture was all wrong.

"Neither do I." Sirius, being taller, had a wider view range. "But look fawn. If there are ruins, then there are people" His grin was infectious.

 **XxxXxxX**

Algar was a proud Dunedain Ranger. Like many of his comrades, he's spent some times with the elves of Rivendell while patrolling near their borders and earned his name by defeating an elven warrior with only a wooden pole. Both of them were quite drunk at the time though, but others say their battle was epic and would be remembered for ages to come.

Right now, he was making his way from Rivendell to Bree by using the northern roads that used to connect Fornost to Breeland. The roads were dreadful, but better than traipsing through the woods during the end of spring, when the rain was coldest and most unforgiving – his eyes were sharp upon the old ruins of Fornost city, a small angst blooming in his chest as he wondered why no one ever bothered restoring the once proud capital.

Then again, as he heard from the many songs presented by his elven friends – Angmar might have cursed Fornost unforgivably for resisting his siege. His fellow rangers often spoke of moaning ghosts that could be heard all the way down the ruins' valley.

That and it was said Orcs and other unpleasant things roamed those hills.

The ruins looked the same as ever though. Depressive lumps of rocks piled at the middle of the valley – Algar was about to dismiss his uneasy and keep traveling when something caught his eyes.

Or _someone_. There, on the remains of a tall column was a figure.

Seemingly catching his eyes, a young woman was animatedly waving at him from on top of her precarious perch. By her side, a frighteningly large mangy dog who stared with a deep, unsettling intensity down at the Ranger…

Hesitating for a moment because he's just been thinking about ghosts, and the presence of the young woman couldn't have been _that_ convenient, Algar shook his head at his own silliness and approached the ruins – his sturdy boots protecting him from the pebbled ground. The girl met him halfway, followed by that huge dog of hers.

He had to make a conscious effort not to blurt out ' _Are you a ghost?'_ So he was quite glad that she came to him with a beaming smile and sparkling, vivacious green eyes hidden behind round glasses. "Good morning sir, my name is Chêne, would you mind answering a few questions?" She had a thick head of dark colored hair that fell in ringlets down her shoulder and back and a pleasant voice exotically accented.

"My lady…" He returned, blinking down at her when she stood before him, head barely reaching his chest bone so short a creature she was. "I am known as Algar" He smiled at the dainty little lady, unconsciously pouring out the charm "I shall do my best to aid you, Lady Chêne" the dog raised its hackles though, prompting Algar to take a stumbled step back and reach for his spear.

"He's only trying to be nice Padfoot, you could try the same" Chêne pulled on the dog's ear. It sat down beside her legs keeping an attentive eye on the Ranger. "Well… this will seem like quite the weird questions… let us start with _where_ are we?"

"We're currently at the southernmost region or Artherdain, between Fornost" He motioned to the small mountains and ruins behind them "And Breeland" His hand went to the direction he's been traveling to.

Both woman and dog stared at him with mirrored confused expression. How could a dog show so much emotion was still a mystery so far. "What day is it?" Her voice became a tiny squeak.

More confused than ever – did she hit her head or something? His quick eyes searched the lady's head for any sight of injury, but saw none… "June 18th"

"Oh Merlin, the day is the same!" She told her dog. The canine nodded. Algar blinked in bewilderment. "Um… what year?" Her green hued eyes found his face – her own was quite pale.

"The year is 2935TA"

"2935…TA?"

"Third Age…" Algar trailed off… "Miss…" The ranger winced, from _lady_ to _miss_ in the span of a few questions. She was crazy, she and her dog. Didn't matter that she was lovely to look at, she was as mad as a wizard. "I was on my way to Bree, but I can escort you to our closest settlement, it should be safer"

Once more trading looks with her _dog_ , Chêne continued with the stream of questions that only confirmed his theory that she was insane. "Why not… escort me to Bree?"

"These roads are not safe for a woman to be traveling with only one guard, there have been many tellings of Orcs raids and even sightings of trolls to the East. In the settlement, you will able to travel with a caravan." He explained, thinking of Trollshaw and its many hidden caves.

She mulled on his answer for a while. Her face clouded in confusion when he spoke of Orcs but quickly morphed to understanding when it came to the Troll's part. After a few seconds in which woman and dog once more silently spoke with each other, the slight female nodded at Algar with all the poise of a queen.

"Alright, please take us to this Settlement Mr. Algar"

This was the strangest day he had so far. But Algar didn't regret wasting a day's travel accompanying the woman and her dog to the ranger's settlement northwest of Fornost near the river Baranduin – or Brandywine as was most common – she made life for his people more interesting if anything.

…

"Here we are" Algar pointed to the large Dunedain camp. There were a lot of old, tattered tents, but since the Rangers have been occupying this territory for a while, a few more sturdy houses were appearing – made of wood and stone and some even came with gardens. "We are nomadic, but this is a good place to settle for winter" Algar explained to Chêne, who was right beside him gawking at the scene.

The 'camp' was protected by an arching stone wall from the north, a left over from the hills of Evendin and the river to the right. Snaking through the wall was a crudely carved stairway that led to an outpost on the top of the cliff – it gave them a very good view of the plains bellow, following the river until the old Oaken tree that marked the bridge to the beginnings of the North Downs mountain range.

There were a lot of people going up and around – A few Rangers were just arriving from patrols, judging by their ruffled, grimy looks. A hearty fire was burning at the middle of the circle of tents and humble houses, with smaller fires going around since it was just getting warmer. A large stable has been built, but there were horses and ponies happily grazing about.

All in all, it was a very homely sight to Algar, who took the chance to be back at the Settlement to greet a couple of old friends and introduce Chêne (and her dog) to the Captain.

"Algar! It is nice to see you well!" The Artherdain Ranger's captain was just as scruffy as Algar, though his beard and hair was greying around his temples and chin – he had bright grey eyes and sun burned skin, though his smile was friendly when he met Chêne's eyes. "Hello there miss, my good name is Tarumis, who might you be? Have you finally settled down with a wife old friend?"

The ranger who escorted Chêne colored, abashedly shaking his head. The young woman sniggered behind a hand, using the other to pat a growling Sirius' head. "N-no wife. This is Chêne, I found her lost by Fornost ruins and offered the safety of this camp while she waits for a caravan to take her back to Bree" Algar quickly explained.

The captain just smirked, it made his handsome features more pronounced. "The miss is welcome to stay here, it won't be for long, a trading caravan is set to part in a few days." He smiled gently at the young woman – Algar had to hold back the urge to warn his Captain of the woman's faltering wits, but thought better of it after he saw the brilliancy of the grin she shot at him in return.

Once more, the female's eyes sought out the dog's and they traded glances. Algar didn't know if her craziness was catching up with him, but he'd swear the dog nodded! "Then I suppose I shall impose on you until the caravan leaves" Chêne replied after patting her dog – who was now staring defiantly at Algar.

"Then let us get the little miss settled in Milian's tent. She's the only female around here without a roommate and won't be too bothered by an extra head on her pillows." The kind Captain thought out loud to Chêne, before his eyes skewered the large black dog that sat passively at her feet "Though I'm not sure how she will react to the dog"

"Oh… I wouldn't want to impose" The raven haired girl shied slightly. "But Padfoot is a good boy, he won't cause any trouble, _will he_?" The last part was clearly meant for the dog. Both Algar and his Captain scratched their beards when the dog nodded once more, seemingly abashed.

Still looking from woman to dog in bewilderment, Algar shook his head. "Since you're in safe hands, I must be going. Must be patrolling Bree territory by the next morn if I don't want Bree-folk cursing my name"

Chêne smiled at him again "Thank you for bringing us here when you didn't have to" That smile made Algar falter and Captain Tarumis grin.

"Safe travels, friend. I shall take good care of your lady!"

Algar hid his blush within the folds of his furred coat. Though as soon as he was gone, Chêne winced. "Oh dear… Um… sir… I might have forgotten to mention my godfather"

 **XxxXxxX**

 **Chapter 03: The Smith, Smiting and Smitten.**

 **XxxXxxX**

2935.

Milian was a pleasant woman, Chêne thought. She was tall, dark and a little imposing – but not in a Snape kind of way – Millian actually knew how to joke and smile. Her dark color scheme had more to do with the fact that she was a Ranger and quite proud of it.

"This is Chêne. Algar brought her along – found the poor lass wandering alone through the ruins of Fornost" The huge black dog that Sirius was currently pretending to be growled, his sharp blue eyes offended to be written off so easily. Tarumis cleared his throat. "Found the lass and her _dog_ wandering through Fornost" He amended diplomatically.

"Hello there" Millian's chestnut brown eyes found Chêne and they traded polite but friendly smiles. Then the female Ranger turned her attention to her Captain curiously, silently wondering just how the newcomer connected with her.

Understanding the look – from receiving it many times before – the Captain continued. "Would you mind sheltering Chêne within your quarters for a few days?"

"Just until the next caravan departs to Bree" Chêne piped in, feeling proud of herself for assimilating all the weird names they've been throwing at her all day. She and Sirius were deep in a dire situation, for the young witch didn't understand a thing of what was going around her initially, though now it was reasonably easier.

"That won't be a problem as long as the dog stays outside" The Ranger agreed, though Sirius shifted uneasily. It wasn't as if he was unable to sleep outside, but neither he nor Chêne felt like being apart from each other for now.

Before Chêne could protest on Sirius' behalf, Algar raised a hand. "What did you speak of earlier, when you mentioned your god…father? Is he lost amongst the ruins as well?"

Well, that was an awkward question. Sirius pawed at her leg and sniffed back the path they came from. "Oh! Right… Yes, he is still lost somewhere down the path, if I send Padfoot after him, he will find his way up here"

The Captain nodded, though he looked as if he seriously doubted her _dog_ father's prowess. Sirius, or better yet, Padfoot would have to prove her wrong. "Alright. If your kin does not show until light next morning, I will send word to the patrols"

"Thank you" Chêne then turned to Milian. "Both of you. We were so lost before Algar found us… though I have no idea of what I'm supposed to do after we reach Bree"

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure everything is going to be fine" Milian comforted. The witch felt a calloused hand clench around her elbow and her brows relaxed from the frown she didn't even realize was there.

Sirius chose that moment to bark, reminding her of their plans to bring _Sirius_ into the picture. "Right… Padfoot, can you go fetch Sirius please?" The big mangy dog huffed, but scampered off the trail that led outside the settlement in a trot. Chêne and Milian watched the dog go, the later with a curious tilt to her brows.

"That is one smart dog" The older woman commented. Tarumis nodded in agreement.

"Indeed." The silver haired man mumbled under his breath. "Go get settled now, night won't be late"

The young woman acquiesced, following after Milian who called her over with a "Come on"

Chêne was led around the large camp, taking her time to stare and observe as much as she could. She's already realized the matter with which the people around dressed was nothing like anything on Earth – though it reminded the witch of medieval times, it wasn't quite like it – patterns, leather and the clothes were all wrong, giving the impression of another world altogether.

Milian's quarter ended up being a spacious tent mounted near the stone steps that led up the cliff. The insides held a lot of weapons racks and a couple of armors – a modest chest and a bed roll completed the Ranger's 'room'. "You can sleep on these, the days are getting warmer, so it won't be a problem" The female told Chêne, entering the tent and zeroing in her chest to pull out a couple of skins.

It would be a bit uncomfortable, but better than sleeping on the ground. "Thank you" The young witch nodded absently, squeezing the slightly smelly skins against her chest. A few sensibilities bred from living through Green Peace propaganda shown now and then (and Hermione) and whatnot had Chêne feeling guilty about taking pleasure in what was once an animal's pelt.

"Just lay them down by my cot" Milian shrugged. "If - " Her voice hitched, eyes steeling a glance at her guest before she corrected herself. " _When_ – when your kin gets here, he can stay with me as well"

"He'd like that" The young woman decided to ignore Milian's ill placed guilt over Sirius' 'disappearance' – Her godfather would wait a while and then he'd come prancing in the settlement, possibly arousing as much suspicion as he could before identifying himself. Seeing as Milian sat herself down by her weapons and pulled out a whet stone, Chêne scooted closer to the elder woman, it was a chance to ask a few questions. "Would you mind if I ask a few questions?"

The Ranger shook her head. "No, I don't mind, if you ask something untoward, I will simply not answer" Her hands were tough and thick skinned, typical of someone hardworking. She pulled out a longsword that Chêne had no hope identifying (only that it was a sword and double edged) and began caring for it with the stone.

The witch started by pulling a mental tally of questions she'd like to have answered besides the immediate one she had Algar give the answer to. "This will seem rather obvious, but what is Bree?"

Milian paused in her work to give Chêne a long and disbelieving look. "What is Bree?" She repeated cautiously. "You definitely are _not_ from here… Bree is a trading town South of here… some say it was founded by survivors from the Battle of Fornost, though now it serves as a connection between Cardolan, Artherdain and Arnor" At Chêne's very obvious deadpan face, Milian's lips twitched. "Here, I've got a map lying around somewhere in that chest"

The Ranger pointed at said chest, in the tilt of her chin was a silent order for Chêne to go fetch it – so the witch crawled inelegantly to the older woman's chest and found the only piece of parchment there. "Found it" She announced, making her way back to the working Ranger.

"Can you find where we are right now? Bree should be marked near a forest, and Fornost by some mountains called North Downs" Unrolling the parchment, the young witch placed it by the tent's flap to catch some light with which to see the tiny scrimptions better.

"I see it" Though Chêne also saw, with gut wrenching clarity, that wherever they were – the map was not of _Earth_.

...


	8. HP x Twilight pt I

Notes: Fem!harry, male!Renesmee – Violet/Remi – MOD!fem!Harry, AU.

 **Torn**

Remi Charles Cullen was born on September 11th 2008.

Usually, when one grows up, they don't remember being a baby – nonetheless remember everything from inside his mother's womb, but Remi did – remember, that is.

One of his earliest memory was of his mom's tired humming. Incoherent sounds from the back of her throat. That was the exact moment his brain started assimilating and compiling memories - when the last neuron made a last connection… meaning he started to learn, think, and _feel._ Most of all, he _knew_ in a basic, unassuming level that he was hurting his mom in some way – but he wanted to _live._

Was that wrong of him?

These moments painted quite an unfocused picture.

He didn't know the language yet – but he was aware of intonations (It didn't take long to learn to differentiate between the voices' tones) and from what he gathered, out of all the different people surrounding him, only his mom and his Aunt Rosie truly defended his existence in such a fragile state.

It does not mean he hated the others. His dad also loved him, he just hasn't realized it yet.

Then came the hunger.

Staying so long in that tight, dark and comfy place meant he knew it profusely. He could see inside the darkness because his powerful eyes could detect the faint light motes that got into his sanctuary through its walls made of skin (and something awfully hard) – he _knew_ he was being sustained by the cord connecting him to his mom, and that her body was unable to sustain him anymore.

He was starving.

Thankfully his sweet mother solved that problem by drinking blood for him – though second hand, he wasn't hungry anymore.

That's when he figured how to use his powers. He wished he could let his mom know how thankful he was, how much he loved her – and so he _pushed_ out with his mind, until it touched hers in a burst of sparks and uncontrolled feelings.

 _I love you mom_.

Remi sent, and suddenly all was right in the world again.

He still dreamed of the moment he first saw light.

He imagined that the world outside his sanctuary was bright from the muted colors inside, though he often dreamed about finally meeting the day properly, what would it feel like to live outside? Until he _was_ outside. It started to become uncomfortable. The walls around him were too compressing and an inborn instinct was telling him to _bite his way out._ That same instinct told him to crawl up his mother's chest and bite her again, between her breasts. But his grandpa Carlisle caught him with a blanket and held him while his dad pushed a thick needle right into her heart and then he didn't get to meet her for three whole days. He heard when the beautiful and comforting sound of her heart stuttered to an end.

It was his first trauma. But also the moment when he first knew _hope_.

(Much later, he figured out that his bite was as poisonous as a full vampire's, and if he bit his mom there –between her breasts, right above her heart- was a chance she'd turn… it explained a lot about that weird itching instinct urging him to bit her as close to her heart as possible)

And then the days became a blur while he grew and learned at an impressive inhuman rate. The world outside was so vast and beautiful, the light so intense and revealing! He had no idea the sun was that brilliant, or that snowflakes could be so fascinating, but they were, and so he lived every day to the fullest for the months it took to round the year.

Then, he first learnt _fear_ , and had to exercise _hope_ for a while.

Of course things went back to normal quickly enough.

After his parents and extended family protected his existence from vampire royalty, of course. But that is a story that happened a lot earlier in his life than what currently was relevant.

…

February 10th 2015, London.

"It's… cloudy" His mom uttered, looking around not worrying about wearing something heavier since London's foggy skies would protect their secret. "I don't need a coat" She continued, telling his dad who was carrying her bag for her.

"It's not about being cloudy" Remi heard his dad answer back, starting once more the tired argument between them since they got out the airplane. It was all Aunt Alice's fault – she was the one who packed for mom, and mom hated the designer jackets with a passion. They had possibly real mink fur. "What do you guess people think when they see you without a coat on in this weather? It has to be at least 33° out here"

His mom looked mutinously at the offending piece of fabric dad was holding for her "I don't know, you tell me" She snarked halfheartedly, making his dad smirk.

"As much as I like you with as few clothes as possible, I don't know if I will share what these folks are thinking while looking at you" He had to be flirtatious while hiding annoyance and possessiveness. Remi winced. Of course Remi felt particularly offended every time his parents sent him to grandpa Charlie for some "alone time". He's heard them (and other various members of his family) doing _it_ enough times already to be hugely allergic to parental flirting.

With a haughty, teenaged sniff, Remi tuned out his mom's comeback, certain he didn't want to hear it and legged as fast as he could from the bench they decided to lounge on (waiting for twilight so they could walk around more confidently without fear of stray beams of sunlight), to the nearest café on sight – leaving his mom and dad to make a date out of it, nothing more romantic than an almost sub-zero date in the park.

' _I'm going to the café over that corner, come find me when you want to go back to the hotel'_ He thought, knowing his mindreading parent would pick up on it and do as he suggested. Remi might officially be 8, but he looked and acted like a 17 years old (the age he'd be frozen into for the rest of his existence). So there was no reason for excessive babying and over protectiveness unless it was from Aunt Rose.

His mom understood the need for his own privacy and alone time, and his dad only wanted to avoid a run-away (A very real possibility when you have a future predicting aunt coupled with an empathic uncle and a mind reading father – smothering doesn't even begin to describe it at times).

(Remi threatened in his head enough time that dad (and aunt Alice on occasions) was becoming largely paranoid in that regard – A grade for parental manipulation and the desire for freedom, mom and uncle Emmet always got a kick out of it)

Shaking his head, Remi stuffed his icy hands inside his jacket, lamenting protesting gloves when Grandma Esmee suggested he'd need them. His blood might as well freeze (not that he'd be affected, it was just mildly uncomfortable. One of the perks from being half-vampire) but hopefully not before he could get inside the warm looking café.

Quickening his steps and still keeping a possible human pace, Remi reached the quaint revolving doors and stepped inside, flinching at the gust of warm air that made his face feel like it was burning as the temperature of his skin (around 55°F) clashed against the commuted heat generated by an absurdly packed place. The roaring fireplace also helped.

Spotting a somewhat idle waitress whose nametag read Nancy, Remi wasted no time to head over, feeling a little smug when the older woman almost stumbled when she caught sight of his face. He disliked mortal attention upon him out of principle (his life expectancy was nearly infinite if he didn't get himself killed), but he enjoyed the flattering looks whenever he went anyway.

"Excuse me ma'am, but is there a seat open?" He questioned, listening with amusement when half the females in the café paused their current conversations in order to gawk at him behind his back. Remi had an incorrigible American accent, in the middle of British sounding folks with their posh tongues, he stood out enormously.

The waitress looked around with practiced eyes, before shaking her head. The regret on her face was not faked. "I'm sorry dear. We got no place free right now, but maybe you might find someone to share"

Remi nodded, a sinking feeling in his gut when suddenly those females' eyes became just a tad too much attentive. ' _I feel like a piece of meat! Is this how deer feels when I hunt them?'_ He entertained the thought for a second or two as he scanned the area, looking for someone seemingly _not_ lusting after him (or otherwise with tables too full) to invite himself to their table. He could always use the 'rude American' stereotype BS to get away with it too.

His answer came in the form of the helpful Nancy. "Look, there is Violet, that girl by the fireplace, she comes 'round every other day and I'm sure she can put up with you, dear"

"I should go and ask her first, thank you ma'am" And gone he was, sidestepping tables and filled chairs and the eyes of lusty females to reach the busy looking girl who sat with only a book for company.

…

Violet sighed a bit bored.

Paperwork was never fun, and Grimmald Place still carried a lot of charged memories for her to enjoy spending a lot of time in it – these days, she only used the house as a deposit to her stuff, since Violet had a lifelong invitation to Ron and Hermione's nice, big and modern apartment (There were the standard kitchen, living room and dining room, plus four suites and an office Hermione enlarged into a library – One room for her friends, one to Violet's goddaughter Rose and one to little Hugo, whose godmother was actually Ginny – and one guest room).

So seeing as it was on the last pegs of winter and the weather was doing all it could to make people as miserable as possible with a near constant icy temperature, Violet refused to stay in Grimmald Place only to do dreadful paperwork and instead, moved her collection of to-do forms and sat in a nearby café, thankfully before the afternoon rush hour (English and their tea) and concentrated on finishing filling the forms so she could enjoy a nice (non-magical) book Hermione lent Violet the week before.

The papers didn't take as long as she expected though. Most of them were reports about some investments venues she was interested in (Violed owned a third of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, funded and owned half of a Magitechnology company under Hermione's advice and made a winning out of royals from products containing her names – dolls, books detailing Violet Potter's adventures, posters and etc) while some were from her ministry job… Not an Auror as she originally thought, but Violet decided to embrace the teacher in her and now ministered bi-weekly defense classes open for everyone (from students to Aurors) who wished to learn and be part of her old D.A.

"Bad day in school today dear?" The voice startled Violet as she was reaching into her purse (undetectable extension charm and all) to fish out the book. Turning her head to look at the person who spoke to her, Violet met Nancy's eyes with her own and tried not to botch a smile into a grimace. "Another 'pot?"

"No, it was actually quite a nice day, if not a little cold" Violet told the waitress, who was motioning to the empty teapot. "Just plain black, thank you"

Nancy nodded, picking up Violet's drained teapot up on her tray. "Almost froze my noggin' off this morning" the waitress confided with a knowing smile. "Let's pack more heat into you before you go wandering off in this weather, dear" said Nancy, leaving a silently amused Violet behind to wait for her black tea.

Why Nancy thought she was still in school? Well… Violet _did_ defeat Voldemort, but instead of throwing the broken Resurrection stone away like she should, the young, starved for attention girl thought she could use it to speak to her parents one last time… After dying and vanquishing a Dark Lord, the Hallows met, and Death got fed up with Violet _not dying when she should_ – resulting in one annoyed immortal witch.

Copious amounts of charms invented by Hermione made sure Violet appeared to 'age'. Though she refused to wear the troublesome things when out in the muggle world, everything had limits.

The nosy waitress that always seemed to attend to Violet returned with her order, though she brought along quite a hang on. With only one eyebrow raised (thank you, Draco), Violet looked over her book to the waitress, then from Nancy to the _hang on_.

Well… _well_.

"Here you go dear" Nancy deposited her pot on the table, helpfully filling her cup back while under Violet's scrutinizing eye. Smiling cordially, Nancy turned to the _hang on_. "This is Violet… Sweety, we're hard packed today, would you mind sharing for a bit with this young gentleman?"

And the young gentleman in question was staring back at her with undiluted curiosity, so Violet returned the favor.

Curly deep red hair a little longer than normal, curving cozily over his ear to touch his cheeks lightly and ending in a tumble of curls at the back of his neck (maybe because of the scarf he now had hanging over an arm) coupled with a pair of stunning brown eyes, framed by the thickest lashes Violet's ever seen on a male before and a face that belonged to Hollywood in the worst case scenario – the androgynous look worked for him however, giving him the image of a pampered rich kid slash teen model.

Needless to say, the witch was instantly suspicious.

…

Remi studied the girl, Violet, with the same intensity she's been studying him.

What caught his attention was not her looks, nor the way she commandeered a whole table to herself in the busy café, nor the fact the waitress knew her by name – She appeared to be around his age, with short, thick and uncontrollable looking hair that transitioned from black to dark russet as the flickering flames from the fireplace spilled their warm colored light over them. Sharp green eyes peering at him from behind old fashioned lenses and an odd shaped scar on her temple (a lightning shaped scar, how did _that_ happen?) – no, what caught his attention the most was just how _old_ her eyes seemed to be.

A lot like his family, actually, who were all at least a couple decades old (aside from mom) but still looked frozen in their early twenties, late teens.

"Oh, no problem, go right ahead and have a seat" Violet finally relaxed from her fixed posture and tried for a friendly smile. "I'm Violet, feel free to share as long as you want" She said, giving him the impression she would stay in the café for a while – and judging by the book she abandoned in the sake of socialization, she had every intention of continuing with her previous activity inwardly of his presence.

Comforting and offending at the same time, for someone who was used to being fawned over, though a kind of welcomed change if he had to be honest with himself. "Right, okay, thanks" Was his very verbose reply. Remi hid his cringe with a grin and took a seat opposite to hers, with his back to the café "I'm Remi" he offered with another grin as he prepared to order from an amused Nancy. "What do you suggest?"

The waitress answered lightly, with that thick and lilting accent that strangely enough contrasted to Violet – Remi decided to ask his tablemate about it later, when Nancy was gone (he knew something about the Isles from grandfather Carlisle's books and the ever useful _internet_ , but it never hurt to ask a local). "Today's pork pie with cherry and almond tarts for dessert, you can look in the menu for your drink, dear"

"I will have that, thanks, and just water for me will do ma'am" With one last smile toward her customers, the waitress rushed off to attend to other tables leaving Violet and Remi basking in the glory of one awkward silent spell. But before Violet could return to her book, Remi quickly asked about their different accents just for conversation sake – he was indeed curious.

"Ah that. It's because I spent a couple of years in a boarding school in Scotland, and one of my teachers had a really thick brogue, so I might have picked up on that" his green eyed tablemate answered with a shrug, but Remi knew she was being actually quite kind – she must be well off money wise and lives in a high end neighborhood – that's what her accent suggested. "What about you?"

"America, if that hasn't been made obvious by now" He jokingly put it, smiling and curling on his seat and a little over the table (he might be able to hear her perfectly over the background noise coming from the café, but she didn't have the privilege of being a supernatural being) so she could hear him better. "Came here with my parents as a vacation, but they're intent on making a second honeymoon out of it, so I ran off here first chance I got" Remi laughed to himself, hoping to draw at least a giggle from his companion – it worked, and he was delighted when Violet snorted into her tea cup, lowering it down with a smile on her lips.

"Must be tough" She commiserated "So your escape plans led you here of all places?"

Remi nodded "It's warm and has food" He argued, making Violet snort again – to his amusement, she tried to cover it with her cup again, failing miserably. "And really good company, so I think I lucked out" He flirted… he flirted… oh dear, Remi surprised himself, feeling warm little tendrils spam in his stomach and hoping his cheeks weren't that rosy.

"Yeah, I can agree with that mate" Violet smiled, her cheeks also gaining a little color – her shoulders hunched up as if she stiffened suddenly, but soon she was relaxing again and meeting his eyes. "You're not bad company yourself" she commented honestly, taking a sip from her cooling tea and studying him from over the rim.

"… How was boarding school like?" Remi asked, just to keep their conversation flowing, barely even noticing when Nancy brought his food back, he just started to absently nibble, mind going a mile per second as he was experiencing something his sheltering family never allowed him to. Interact with someone his apparent age (if not mental age, Violet still _felt old_ ).

"Like any other school, I'm sure" She evaded, lowering her eyebrows, unwittingly letting him know that, that was a subject she wasn't comfortable with.

Since he wasn't tactless, Remi nodded, wondering how he could reply to that in what wouldn't be constructed as him trying to guilt trip her ("I've never gone to school, so I wouldn't know" would just kill their frail acquaintanceship and burn his tentative friendship to ashes if she ever felt insulted). What do normal teenagers talk about? "I'm sure… are you interested in technology?" He finally settled for this, eyeing the cover of her book – safe subject, at least.

"This book? A friend of mine lent me, I'm actually quite terrible at technology thingy-ma-jig, I still use those old caller models since they're simple enough" Violet seemed to realize she was making things awkward and decided to throw a bone – Remi relaxed, glad that at least she'd also try on her part.

"By caller you mean cellphone?" He laughed openly, liking the grumpy face she threw him. "Today they do almost everything beyond calling! My grandfather is a doctor; he holds conferences with his phone alone and can even perform surgery continents away"

To that remark, Violet pursued her lips and fished out of her bag a large blocky phone that might as well belong to a museum – those old big nokia phones with fading number pads and a long thick antenna. "This is the limit of my understanding of callers" She added the last word with a stubborn tilt to her chin that had Remi snickering under his breath. "Technology and ma… me don't mix"

Remi ignored the hiccup in her speech, figuring she was about to use a slang or a private joke thing (his family had an impressively large repertoire of ' _inside jokes'_ due to their shared _condition_ ) and instead of commenting, was actually thankful she bit the subject change and reached for his own smartphone to show off to Violet.

"I get it! My family are actually quite odd compared to our other… relatives, they also don't like technology much" More like they didn't have the patience to learn how to use it (At least uncle Garret plays videogames with uncle Emmett from all the way in Alaska – the wonders of the internet and X-boxes).

Though Violet's phone also gave Remi a huge clue into her personality. She was most likely a recluse and reserved girl, friendly when actually approached and did not have a lot of friends her age with whom she could share in the wonders of modern communication methods, why talk when you can message? Like him, her mental age might be above what she looked.

Violet for her part made no effort to reach for the phone, eyeing it like the piece of technology was actually a fearsome object. "I'm sure that thing is all nice and shiny, but it is likely to explode if I so much as touch it" She told him with a playful grin "I rather send letters, a lot more reliable"

Remi bit another piece of his pork pie and took a drink of his water before continue with a large teasing smirk "Actually, I can use this to message too! Why don't we exchange numbers?" That nervous little coil in his stomach did a flip. Violet was the first girl with whom he offered his number, and it was a huge step for him, so much he felt a little weary about his family's reaction – if his dad, uncles or aunt Rose teased him, mom was sure to set them straight anyway.

"Sure, why not?" Violet nodded, taking her huge blocky phone back and looking up at him with expectation written all over her face "Shoot" she prompted, fingers poised above the glowing number/letters pads.

"Okay, okay, my number is…"

…


	9. HP x Twilight pt II

Notes: Fem!harry, male!Renesmee – Violet/Remi – MOD!fem!Harry, AU.

 **Torn**

 **Chapter 2**

March 17th 2015, London – Grimmald Place

Violet sighed, leaning back against the comfortable chair in her nice and cozy office and eyeing the ugly dark thing she used as a 'cellphone'. It was an old model, with a low tech Cadmium battery that although lasted no longer than a few hours, didn't overheat or crash by the smallest hints of magic (and was even rechargeable by it) – thus very usable for the more technology savvy members of the secret enclaves.

Her Magitechnology company, created with the sole intention of merging both magic and technology, was on its way to developing a working device that functioned through magic instead of electricity (like her cellphone, small though the battery life may be) – something about how magic interfered with electromagnetic fields and blocked electric charges, overheating system and often melting internal components of most muggle devices that were so dependable on electricity.

Also, computers tend to dislike magicals on general… delicate circuit boards simply ceased to exist at the merest brush with magic. The older, bulky models from before the new century were more resistant to magic, so the consent was that, the smaller, the bigger the explosion – the company Violet funded with Hermione and other muggleborns was working on advancing the Enclaves technology levels by introducing it slowly to the muggle world, though it was a slow but lucrative business.

Alas, her problem had nothing to do with the company, but with her cellphone itself.

It started that cold February day in which she met and innocently befriended Remi – the too good looking to be true Muggle (who might not be a muggle, but he didn't recognize her name, so he wasn't part of the Enclaves anyway) boy. Remi is sharp and intelligent, and though they only communicated through short messages every couple of days, Violet gathered a very quick wit – from the café that day, she could see he was a little skittish around females and had a bit of an ego, but was a good kid (a boy! Twenty years too young for her!), someone she thought she could introduce to Rose had she the chance.

But Violet came to like Remi as a friend the more she talked to him. It was nice, she noticed, having a (possibly, the alternative was still out there, no one was _that_ beautiful without creature blood) mundane friend who was not aware of her hero status, nor was someone with whom she had to keep meticulously applied glamours all times of the day… at least not for a couple of years if they ever met again.

A nice and impersonal friendship – trading remarks through messages, and someone she genuinely came to care about.

The problem?

She's nearly forty!

The solution?

"Violet, are you in the office?" Hermione yelled from the front door, opening her way into the house that Violet spent years trying to make more lively.

Currently, the old, moldy carpets have been abandoned in favor of a cheerful and fluffy peach colored one – the chandeliers and Victorian style lamps have gone to the Black Family vault and in their place were bright and modern models that worked better with the now white decorations. All furniture have been painted to light and earthen tones, with red and gold draperies. Sirius would have been proud.

And more importantly, all those hideous props like the troll leg umbrella holder and the shrunk elf heads made their merry way to the closest dumpster. Or the fireplace.

"Yeah! Come up!" Violet hollered back, hurriedly clearing the mess that was over her table before Hermione could enter. Barely managing to make her sanctuary seem cleaner, the raven haired witch smiled brightly at her best friend. "Hullo! You look better now that Ron has found that new job"

Hermione entered the office eyeing it distastefully for a moment, before making her way to sit on the opposite chair in front of Violet, kicking off her shoes as she went.

"You were expecting me, there could have been tea" The other witch scolded, but it was light hearted at best – everyone of their friends knew Violet's disdain over Grimmald Place, even if she kept the house in honor of Sirius' memory and to have a hiding place in case she needed. "And Ron indeed leaves the house more often now; dear Merlin was he driving me mad!"

Violet winced, she completely forgot about Hermione's visit, so absorbed she was in her brooding. "… 'm sorry, I have a lot of things in my mind lately, but I'm glad for you and Ron, he deserves it after what happened with the Cannons" Both witches winced in sympathy.

They traded a little more small talk before Hermione lost her patience completely.

Her friend straightened on her seat, giving Violet a very pointed look. "Alright, now out with it. Why have you called me here? We could have met in the Apartment where we have tea" Hermione's voice was teasing, Violet smiled at her friend and shook her head.

"Ah, right, I just wanted a little privacy. Rose must be a handful with Ginny visiting" Rose is Hermione's eldest child. The girl looked a lot like Hermione but with Ron's coloring and was a handful on most days. Thankfully she's starting her fifth year in Hogwarts this year and has been chosen as a prefect.

 _And Ginny is…_

The older looking witch's eyebrows furrowed even as she nodded in agreement "She is indeed… Ginny is nice and all, but not a good influence on my Rosie. I wish she'd settle down soon" _Burdened._ Violet thought, holding back a cringe. Hermione continued talking. "She's a beautiful and successful witch, I don't understand why can't stay put with a nice bloke and finally raise the family she wants" Yeah, they both remembered _why_ Ginny is being so stubborn, it wasn't a pleasant memory. "Oh… I'm sorry Violet"

The seventh years students who missed Hogwarts because they were out and about saving the Enclaves from Voldemort (hiding because they were muggleborn or serving the part of Death Eaters) returned two years after the final confrontation between Voldemort and Violet. In the year 2000 when Hogwarts was finished being rebuilt - both classes of 1998 and 1999 joined together in a fast and intensive course that lasted for a term – meaning Violet, Ron and Hermione were sharing classes with Ginny and Luna.

It wasn't bad, in fact, the first few months were the most fun Violet ever had in school – and for the fact that Hermione accepted marrying Ron right out of Hogwarts, she had _fun_ as well (Rose was suspiciously born only a couple of months after).

The only thing that dampened Violet's graduation was Ginny's vow – the younger girl _loved_ Violet, though Violet did _not_ and could _not_ return the feelings – she's just coming to terms with her apparent immortality and didn't want to drag anyone (being Ginny or another love interest) down in the dumps with her. But Ginny was not to be deterred, and thus vowed to never settle down with anyone who wasn't Violet.

She's still alone fifteen years later.

The raven haired witch shook her head, trying to dispel the old sense of _guilt._ "It's nothing, I was thinking the same thing and I know it's not _my_ fault"

"No one is going to judge you if-" Hermione started, but Violet cut her off, guessing the line of thought – _if you gave her a chance_ – it was an old line spouted in her general direction every time she bumped into anyone with the surname _Weasley_.

"Not even then, Hermione. I don't like Ginny that way, she's like a little sister to me – well, older sister now" Her voice was self-depreciating. Her older looking friend stiffened, guilt flashing in her eyes.

"I'm really sorry Vi. I will, no, we will find some way to help you beyond cosmetics"

There isn't – Violet wanted to say, but held her tongue and took a deep calming breath. "Forget about it for now, though it has to do with why I called you here" she was still nervous about it, and wanted to share this with a friend so much it sent jitters down her spine. It felt like she was a teenager (in age) again, before all the Voldemort fiasco and the whole running for their lives thing. "I… um… made a muggle friend and we've been trading messages for a while now" was the rushed confession.

Tension bled out of Hermione's shoulders, though she still looked weary.

"Ooh, _a friend?"_

Nod. Her friend started to smile impishly with fondness. "Yes… but it's not what you're thinking! Get your mind off the gutter, woman! He's too young for me anyway"

There was a violent pause in which Hermione stared hard at Violet, face falling slightly "That's… a bit complicated" She said slowly, as if testing the waters before diving for the kill "How _young_ are we talking about?" _twenty years difference_ – but her friend was more worried about something else… not appearing your actual age was actually very complicated sometimes… "And for Merlin' sake Violet, in what way is he younger than you?"

Violet, who was starting to regret opening herself to Hermione, but more in the sense that she felt she was about to be told she did something bad, _knowingly_ , admitted carefully. "Young as in, looks as old as I am… I think he's sixteen or seventeen" the beginning stage of guilt started to curl in her belly. "It's not that bad because I still _look_ seventeen!"

Hermione was not that forgiving and voiced the thought that kept haunting Violet for a while now "But you will keep looking seventeen for a very long time!"

"I know!"

"… Is he a wizard? Did you meet him while not wearing the glamours? Of course you did! So that means he's a muggle, or a very oblivious wizard, a wizard who knows how to operate a telephone which is rare so I'm thinking you found yourself a muggle boyfriend" Her clever friend deduced tightly, hands curling into fists and clenching on top of the varnished wood of her office table – Violet could clearly see the worry etched into Hermione's lightly wrinkled forehead and it comforted her somewhat.

"No, he's mundane, I think" She thought he might not be mundane at all, but decided not to tell her friend about her own musings after the previous outburst. "And he's not my boyfriend! I can't even think about this subject and you know it Hermione, you just pointed out the _why_ in my face" Violet finished defensively. She wasn't _that_ thoughtless or reckless.

"Then stop it right now" Hermione's fist knocked on the wood for good measure, eyes hardening somewhat into a sharp whiskey color – she could see something developing in Violet that the witch herself was not aware, and Violet noticed how focused Hermione was being.

"Stop what?" She asked obtusely for the sake of being difficult. Hermione saw through her act and frowned correspondingly.

"Communicating with him. You trade messages right? Stop responding, he will give up soon enough, he's going to get over you – at that age everything is transitory" The older looking witch said rigidly, almost snapping, making Violet back down into her seat with hunched shoulders and a lowered head – their position was comically inverted – the one scolding was sitting at the visitor chair while the unruly teenager sat at the bigger chair.

"…"

Taking a calming gulp of air, Hermione continued in a softer voice "Violet… do you _like_ this boy? He is Rose's age" she asked cautiously, keeping an eye on Violet's mutinously curved lips "If you don't stop this, I'm sure he will – Teenagers are whimsical and impulsive. What if he finds a real girlfriend? Someone his own age?"

"But I am his age!" was the clever argument Violet gave.

"Only you're not! Look, I know you're getting lonely and I'm sorry Violet, but as your friend and voice of reason I can't let you be so reckless. You will end up falling in love with this boy and then what? You will only get hurt, long distance relationships are hard work, and if you meet him again it will be back to wearing glamours to disguise the fact that you haven't aged a day. Is that what you want? A relationship based on _lies_?"

If Hermione have hit her, it would have hurt a lot less. _Realization sucks._

 _But she is right._ Violet thought. _I have to distance myself from Remi_.

Heart clenching painfully in her chest at just thinking about it, Violet mumbled a quiet "No…"…

She's a grown woman! She can make her own decisions without Hermione telling her what to do! "Then break it off while you can and forget about this nonsense"

It is really quite strange, Violet feels…

She can't get this… _child_ out of her head – it's like from the moment she saw him, he was fated to be in her life – and it hurt… her heart was pounding in painful drums, attempting to carve its way out of her ribcage by concussive force alone and she's what? Only _thinking_ about following Hermione's advice (instructions). It really doesn't make any sense, she's only met him _once._

Why does it feel like she's being naughty as she picks her phone to answer Remi's resent message?

She knows she shouldn't – she's lived in a castle full of teenagers herself for years, and was _one_ in body – Remi was bound to meet someone else or get distracted and forget about the weird penpal he picked during his vacation. Violet wasn't that interesting, she didn't know what mundane topics were spoken of by people her age (and apparent age) and was old fashioned in her own way. It _hurt_ to imagine being rejected by her new friend.

 _What a disaster… why do I feel this way?_

It wasn't love, not yet… maybe an obsession?

Sick with herself, Violet wept.

…

It is bizarre, Remi thought, having recognized the feelings as soon as he stepped back in US soil and realized the physical distance between him and Violet. At first he honestly thought he was merely missing his first friend outside the Cullen family friends (The Dennali were nice, and the nomads always brought the best gifts when they came to visit) …When it finally dawned on him.

But then it was already too late.

His mom described it aptly once – " _Being away from Edward was like having the ground taken from under my feet, like the sun suddenly lost heat and like I could never be happy ever again_." She would glance at Remi's dad and shake her head with an indescribable emotion written in the depths of her eyes. " _Vampires have mates, one in a lifetime chance at finding this eternal companion, they can be human or other vampires, it doesn't matter – the attraction is instant. Much like your Uncle Jacob's people's imprinting but a lot more insidious at first… I thought I would wither away and die if I didn't have Edward by my side, and I didn't understand why"_

Grandpa Carlisle explained later, they formed _bonds_ , ties that connected each other – there is even a Volturi King who can see such bonds, and vampires could form extremely powerful bonds that had the potential to last eternities – soul mate bonds were on a scale completely unknown until you felt it for yourself.

Normal humans could pass through their soul mates and never glance twice at them, not recognizing or accepting the pull or attraction. His mother, human at the time, struggled with the emotional turmoil his father leaving caused her. To this day Edward is utmost repentant and does not even think about leaving her vicinities without letting her know before-hand.

It got old pretty fast, but Bella needed the attention badly after the whole Volturi fiasco about Remi supposedly being an immortal child.

As it stands, Remi completely understood what his parents must have gone through. His whole being _ached_ in a strange metaphysical way – like he was missing something so _badly_ it hurt. He didn't even know Violet that deeply, just met her by chance in a wayward British café and would have never even given her a second thought beside fondness for their shared messages.

(He liked to think he'd still have given her his number so they could penpal in a way even if he wasn't unexpectedly drawn to her).

Remi is in pain. What if he noticed sooner? Preferably before his parents decided to leave London to explore the countryside so he had enough time to convince Violet to come back with him.

"What's going on twerp?" Emmet asked, seeing Remi's concentrated mien whilst staring at his phone. His aunt and uncle just entered the living room, clothes ruffled and bright golden eyes so he knew they just fed – that and the smell of animal blood was slightly nauseating, even if he's used to drinking it by now.

"Don't call him names!" Aunt Rose interfered, slapping her husband's head even as she smiled at her nephew "You _do_ seem down Remi, want to talk about it?"

Uncle Emmet shot Aunt Rose a halfhearted glare, but sat down beside Remi on the sofa and patted his dark red curls. "Yeah, if you can't tell Rose, you can tell me, ok bud? Men troubles?" The older male asked carefully, raising an eyebrow as his eyes caught the name flashing across Remi's smartphone's display. _Violet._

Remi recoiled, hiding his incriminating phone as quickly as he could in the folds of his jacket. The damage was done however, as fast as he was, he still lost to a full vampire. Aunt Rose's lips pulled down in a frown as she saw his defensive posture, raising a hand to placate him and speaking softly.

"If you don't want to talk right now, we can wait until you're comfortable, or we can call Jasper – he is a good listener" Rosalie commented lightly in a joking tone, making her audience relax and snicker in fond humor after a moment's hesitance.

"It's ok aunt Rose" The half breed told her, uncoiling slowly from his position and relaxing back over the cushions. Uncle Emmet also visibly loosened, thanking Rosalie with his eyes. She nodded understandingly. Remi shook his head at their exchange, feeling increasingly warm at the caring his family had for him. "I just made a friend"

Uncle Emmet couldn't resist the jab "A _lady_ friend?" He asked, poking Remi carefully at the ribs (He's broken a rib or two in the past roughhousing with his uncles and dad, the women of the family were _not amused_ – he's had to remind them that despite being a hybrid, he _could_ still somewhat keep up with _them_ )

"Emmet!" Rosalie snapped. Uncle Emmet was about to repent in words when they heard a car pulling up the curb at the same time their father/grandfather's voice was heard from inside the car.

"What is it I hear about lady friends?" He nearly shouted (so he could be easily heard by Remi). Moving quickly to get out of his vehicle and enter the house.

As soon as the doctor was inside, Emmet shot up from the couch and pounced on their father figure with a loud cracking noise, avoiding the pillow aunt Rose threw at him "Carlisle, I'm trying to have a serious man-to-man conversation with Remi and they won't let me" The big vampire whined, clinging to his father's neck.

Ever practical, Carlisle smiled congenially at the present members of his coven, slapping Emmet's back until he was let go. "He is physically at that age and as a half human we know next to nothing about his developments, though Remi's recent blood test indicated increased levels of horm-"

"Grandpa, stop talking! I don't even want to know… it's not that kind of man-to-man talk" Remi cut him off, an embarrassed hue covering his cheeks. Emmet peeked over Carlisle's head and blinked inconspicuously over his shoulders in such a dramatic way that Remi laughed without meaning to.

"What he means to say is that it's completely natural to feel certain urges" Rosalie, who was giving Emmet warning glares picked up, having herself a medical decree "We understand Remi, you're a growing boy" she finished placatingly. She might not be as stuck up about turning new vampires after Remi's mom, but she was still conservative – that she admitted to understanding Remi's feelings and accepting them was huge.

Remi was about to answer his aunt when uncle Emmet had to point out the obvious. "He's stopped aging for a few months now"

"Besides the point – and as much as we'd like you to continue being the baby of the family, soon you will want your own space to grow and expand your wings" Rosalie continued, ignoring her husband's remarks with practiced ease making Remi feel even more gratitude toward his aunt.

"This is going to sound ridiculous" Remi heard himself say, deflating further into the sofa as he became the target of three focused stares. "I think I found my mate"

It took but a couple of seconds before all hell broke loose.

"What?! But how, you're too young!" Rosalie fretted, wide eyed as she traded looks with Emmet and Carlisle, who was a little too shocked but not that surprised (Edward tended to moon about when he first met Bella, Remi has been doing the same for the past few months) The blonde vampire continued worriedly. "We haven't even had your ninth birthday yet!"

"Who is she? Is she that Violet girl who has been sending you messages?" Emmet asked over his wife's concerned mutterings.

Remi's grandfather sighed, stepping into the living room to sit beside Remi, pushing a cushion away so he could sit better – Emmet followed after him "When did you even _had_ the time to meet new people?" He added his own question to the confusion, Remi blinked, slightly pained before raising a hand and stopping his aunt and uncle.

"I don't feel young aunt Rose. I met her during mom and dad's trip to Britain. Her name is Violet, and yes, _that_ Violet uncle Emmet" He thought for a bit longer. "And I am _sure_ she is _mine"_ His voice was firm and unyielding, relaying all he felt about this subject.

Aunt Rose already had her cellphone in hand and they all could hear the dialing noise – the receiver picked up on the second ring and suddenly Alice's voice was filling the room. "I _saw_ it!" She sing songed "Edward and Bella are with us, we will be getting home in no time!" aunt Alice positively _chirped_ , not letting Aunt Rose speak a single word edgewise. "And just to let Remi know, yes sweetheart, you are completely _right_ " And cue the call ending with Rosalie standing there, mouth hanging half open.

"Should I even have bothered?" She wondered to the room's occupants, Emmet was the only one who shook his head since Carlisle was also busy calling Esme – the conversation ended just as quickly though, with both elder vampires speaking quickly to each other in a burst of speech too fast for even Remi to comprehend.

"Esme is on her way as well, this demands a family meeting" The patriarch announced.

"Don't I have a say in this at all?" He asked wonderingly, more amused than peeved.

Grandpa Carlisle snapped his cellphone shut and offered another smile, this time brighter than his previous one "We are proud of you for finding your companion so fast, when some of us spend years trying to locate them" The Cullens looked at each other with this mystifying _understanding_ , making that warm comforting feeling Remi got from earlier grow hotter.

…

Remi's head inadvertently filled with thoughts of Violet as his fingers moved deftly over ivory keys, the piano crying for him the feelings welling in his chest – beautiful and hauntingly painful at the same time.

Violet's curly short hair, sitting over her shoulders and shinning red as it shimmered from the cozy, fire light. The way her bright eyes steadily warmed the more they interacted – he remembered (it was hard not to, with Eidetic memory) the suspicion and even the sliver of fear that polluted the greens of her irises, but he understood that they were strangers and she had every right to be cautious of him.

(Though he had yet to find a female who'd give him the cold shoulder then – Violet had been an exception, a temporary one for all he knew).

And in the middle of his musical reminiscing were Remi's family, perched around Edward's piano on the various available surfaces (like the ground, eh mom? Aunt Alice has been giving Bella _looks_ since she's chosen to sit on the floor and _possibly_ smudge the pricey designer jeans Alice given Bella).

"Is that what she looks like?" Edward asked, more to distract his adopted, oracle sister – who looked ready to jump on his wife – than to confirm his findings in his son's mind. Remi had Violet so vividly imprinted in his mind that his dad was likely privy to the number of scattered freckles on her nose. "She's beautiful, son"

Alice perked up very quickly. "What? Edward, what does she look like?"

"Hmm… About your height-"

"Oohhh, not very tall at all then!" Jasper teased good naturedly, receiving a light slap for his troubles and a halfhearted warning look from his wife.

"Dog house!" Emmet quipped from Rosalie's left on the loveseat, sharing an amused look with Remi, who had to stop playing when the ruckus escalated.

Before Esme or Carlisle rose to do crowd control, Alice cut all side conversations with a shrill whistle. "Quiet you guys! Go on brother, I want to know what she looks like so I can search for her!"

Still being bombarded by his family's thoughts (poor Jasper, on the other hand, being made hostage to the onslaught of curiosity undoubtedly pouring out of every Cullen in the room) Edward shook his head and continued in a louder voice than necessary "About Alice's height, clear green eyes and dark red hair, patrician face with high cheekbones and defined nose, a lightning bolt scar on her brow-" He kept on describing Violet, the clothes she was wearing and the accessories as well, Remi had to fight down the blush that his father picked up on so much detail.

As the mind reader talked, however, Alice's face was becoming cloudier – until her eyes glassed, as if staring far away and her whole body _seized_ for a second. Jasper embraced his wife carefully, feeling whatever she was feeling at the moment.

 _It wasn't good_.

Edward stopped talking, reaching for Bella as well – both Alice and Edward avoiding meeting Remi's eyes.

"Alright, that was creepy, what did you see?" Remi asked irritated – this was _his_ Violet they were talking about, if he wasn't slightly uncomfortable before now he was downright angry.

"Oh sweetheart, I am so, so sorry" Alice was the first to break the silence, dethatching herself from Jasper so she could grab Remi and cuddle him into her shoulder.

"Edward, what did Alice see?" Bella questioned impatiently, worried for her son's future.

"Alice saw them, Remi and Violet together, but while Remi still looked as he is _now,_ the girl, Violet… She was much, much older"

"Impossible, we have the same age"

"Oh dear…"

"So she will know our secret and will never be turned?"

"What? Of course she will be turned!" "Remi will want to keep her always"

"Edward didn't want to turn Bella"

"Because he didn't want to _hurt her_ – doesn't mean he wanted to necessarily _live without her_ , don't you remember Volterra?"

"It's a lie, you couldn't have seen us, that wasn't Violet"

"I'm sorry Remi, it was her – same eyes and scar, and she was holding your hand"

' _He was also looking resigned; don't tell him that though, it would crush him, lemme do damage control'_ "Remi, sweetheart, listen… not everything I see come to pass, what I see depends on decisions made – or sometimes they're just random scenes from people I look out for, the future is not set in stone, we will find a way to change it"

' _I, for one, am somewhat happy Remi's girl has sense_ ' "If she doesn't want to be turned, you can't force her, it is her right to decide"

"Rosie… you're hurting Remi"

"He needs to know this. I truly am sorry that your mate might not choose to join us Remi, but promise _me_ you won't pressure her, at least let Violet make the choice"

"I would _never_ intentionally hurt her, Aunt Rose"

"We know sweetling, we will be here for you"

…

' _Family can be smothering sometimes'_ Remi sent.

' _I wish. My parents passed when I was very young, but I have very good friends'_

' _I'm sorry Vi, I didn't know'_

' _It's fine, like I said, very good friends. And I'm emancipated already so I don't have to worry about adult supervision :p'_

' _There's that too'_

"I hope that's not what I think it is…"

"Then you better stop thinking Hermione" "Look, I know about everything that can go wrong already! I want to know what can go _right,_ Hermione, don't I deserve the chance to _try?_ "

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I am. I never felt like this before. It's like from the moment I met him, he's become my world, it's a little hard to explain"

"Violet… I don't wish to alarm you but maybe he's used a glamour or -"

"Hermione!"

"Fine! I won't say anything more about this muggle boy you're intent on bonding with!" "But I want to meet him"

"What?" "Why?"

"Because he's so important to you that you're willing to risk your secret, I want, to the very least, have a glimpse of what's interesting to you about the kid"

"Well…"

"And I bet you want to meet him again anyway"

"I would like that, yes" "Should I send a message now or wait until you've spoken to Ron?"

"Ron won't mind, he's busy with his new job and surely won't bat an eyelash if I take a week off"

"Quidditch team captain or not, I'd gather he'd like to be kept informed about our comings and goings" "You don't want him to know"

"No… it's not that. Ron is a bit callous about female sensibilities at best, and he's grown quite protective of you since Rose. I just don't want him to worry needlessly"

"Alright, but let him know anyway" "I guess Rosie would enjoy a vacation too"

"I will tell Ron about our trip together but I won't tell him _why_ we're going across the pond in the first place" "And yes, Rose has never been out of the Isles, you think we should invite her along?"

"Yeah. We can make a girls-only vacation and leave the house under Ron and Hugo"

"That's a scary thought, though I like the idea" "Give your beau a ring then"

"Message. We don't really call each other"

"Never?" "Oh Violet, I don't know if I should feel glad or flummoxed about this obvious communication barrier between you and your boyfriend…"

' _Very good friend mentioned earlier annoying me now, considering demoting her'  
'Would you mind if I visited you?'_

"I sent a message, he should answer soon"

" _Hello, Rosie? Can you talk now sweetheart?" "I'm with Violet, yes. She's planning a quick trip to the U.S and is inviting us along-"_

" _YES!"_

"My guess is that Rosie wants to come, very much"

"Oh shut up you… _not you dear, can you squeal a little less loud? Thank you. We should iron out the details tonight and be ready to pack by next week"_

"Wait, so soon?"

"What's the matter? No time like the present… _No, only you, Violet and I, your dad and brother won't come, no, I'm not calling anyone else but us… not even Molly… alright, see you home sweetheart"_

' _Really? You know I want you'  
'…want you __here_ _'  
'Let me know when you want to come and do you even have my address?'_

' _Around next week and nope'_

"Is that your friend?" "What did he say?"

"Back off! This is mine!" "And I think I broke him. I told you next week was too soon"

"Nonsense. See? Check out what he wrote so I can skim for plane tickets"

' _Here's my address…'_

" _Hello? Oh, hi Ginny… Rosie did huh? I want to meet Violet's new friend… Know what? You can come as well_ "

"Hermione… I hope you just didn't invite Ginny along"

"I did… _That was Violet, she's annoyed that so many people decided to jump in her wagon… I invited myself and she suggested Rose come… I'm sure she won't care if you do as well"_

"I will" "What? Ginny is nice and all but… you do remember _why_ I want to visit Remi right?"

" _Ginny… this friend of Violet's is a little more than a friend… We already had this talk and she won't appreciate you lecturing her" "_ She's… in a bad mood"

"I bet… Hermione…"

"It was Rosie. She was a bit irritated that I wouldn't let her bring Molly along so she called Ginny… don't be surprised if the whole Weasley clan come baring down on you"

"Great"

"Oh don't pout, we love you dearly"

…

Remi wants to introduce his parents as his parents, but has to use Carslile due to his apparent age compared to Bella and Edward. Hermione and Violet suspicion are proven correct due to the Cullens' golden eyes.

Hermione makes a study trip out of things and does her best to teach Cassy and Rose about the local culture, to the others amusement. The Cullens are currently living in (lugar?). Violet and Remi spend time together, and Bella ponders on the vampires' glamour that atract humans so much, and why Violet doesn't seem to be affected, she feels bad for Remi, and Edward noticed how hard it is to get thoughts from Violet and her family, though not impossible. Remi kisses Violet, making Violet reject him due to her worries over their age and because Rose develops a huge crush on Remi.

Violet runs to the woods to be away from everyone when she is intercepted by a red eye vampire nomad, friend of Carlisle, who takes an interest in her, exposing he (and the Cullens) are supernatural beings, moreover, a type of vampiric species since he aludes to drinking her blood. Violet overpowers her attacker with magic by acting within a tiny time frame - Alice sees Violet being attacked, but doesn't see her defending herself. Remi dashes off to her rescue feeling guilty that he's the cause she's into the woods in the first place followed by the Cullens and worrying the Weasleys. Hermione consults her wrist version of the Weasleys clock - showing Violet is "making out" which causes her to laugh increduously.

Remi follows Violet's scent and finds her holding her attacker off with magic. Surprised, he quickly tells the visitor that Violet is his mate, therefore out of limits - the nomad backs down. Remi rounds on Violet, who explains she has powers beyond that of a human, and Remi relieved, tells her what he is just in time for his family to come bursting out of the treelines. Carlisle warns Remi about the dangers of keeping a human girlfriend, but Violet just tells them she's known they were not human for quite some time!

Violet tells Hermione that the Cullens are magical beings known as the Cold Ones, dark creatures similar to vampires but closer to Earth nature Golems - and because they feed on animals, their eyes are golden colored - and due to Remi's hybrid nature, he has human irises. Hermione is fascinated that he Cold Ones can reproduce with humans, and tells Carlisle about the Enclaves and their deal with the Volturi after their war against the Werewolves, already compiling notes about "vegetarian vampires". The Cullens are equally as fascinated by magic, and utterly curious about the origin of their curse.

The first vampire was created by the gods before the first human, but as flawed creatures they were abandoned by their creators who in turn made humans - enraged, the first struck a deal with the titans, gaining a body made of crystal and the hability to convert their fellow humans, who were also made of dirt to their race. Prometeus taught humans abotu fire not only to help them, but to protect them from the cold ones - a cold one weakness aside from Werewolf venom, which was like poison to them.

Violet confesses to Remi about her adventures, and their consequences, admiting to the fact that she's virtually imortal since Death gave up reaping her soul, and her role in the Enclaves. Violet tells Hermione about the pull she feels toward Remi, and her friend tells her to be a little reckless and stay with him. Violet decides to resign from her job in the ministry and start anew in the US by opening a cafe shop along with Remi, though he tells her about having to move constantly because they don't age. Violet laughs and tell them that with a witch in the family, they didn't have to move around so much since she can spell them to look older!

Bella is overjoyed that she can meet her mother face to face, and the Cullens decide to return to Forks, since that is their favorite house. To their amusement, Remi convinces Violet to go to school with him - to give themselves new, enjoyable memories - And to their utter delight, Alice who now looks nearly thirty insists on being a teacher, finally putting her diplomas to good use. Edward can work with Carlisle in the hospital and the rest can mingle much easier with the humans without the worry of being found out under thick disguising spells.

...


	10. HP x KHR

Ah... Regulus is reborn in Reborn as Tsuna's twin sister? I just had to try my hands on this xD  
Warnings: Fem!Regulus, AU, Tsuna cuteness.

 **The Young Lion**

Regulus Black died with a bitter sense of failure curling in his belly… It might be because he died embraced tightly by Inferi, or maybe because he died without ever admitting his feelings to his elder brother – ' _Hey Sirius, you were right when you bullied me because I was friends with my year mates…' –_ _Maybe not that_. Definitely not that. After all, Regulus did do the right thing in the end, where he died without any recognition and being thought of as a dastardly evil Death Eater.

No one would know the deep psychological struggles he went through. ' _Mudbloods, all of them, stealing our magic, our culture, our_ _ **world…**_ _they all should die and make way to a new age of glory for the unsullied… Always Pure, Regulus, you are a Black'…_ Were the thoughts ingrained into his very flesh by both his family and friends.

It looked like quite the obvious step, didn't it? Joining the rising Dark Lord in his campaign to free the magical world from muggles… Regulus joined his family, house and blood in this fight, though up until this turning point.

" _Cousin… They're children…"_

" _Do it, Reggie, do it for our Lord. One or two less muggle filth in this world for our Lord to content with…"_

He could still see their tiny faces flashing grin at the tip of his wand. That night was haunted by children's cries and small hands gripping at him and asking, _why did you kill us?_ Regulus spent weeks telling himself that being offered a clean, painless death by him was a hundred times better than being tortured by his Cousin. This didn't make the nightmares any less painful.

After that Regulus took a step back.

He could understand fighting off muggles encroaching on their territory, muggles imposing their odious culture on them, they having to bend to the muggleborn's tastes so they would 'fit in'. A bunch of utter bullshit – even those developing 'technologies' so often talked about in obscure rags, about how muggles managed to go to the moon! They wiped off an entire city from existence with a 'bomb'. They now had those 'cameras' that represented an even bigger danger to the magical world!

Should they be exposed to the muggles, it would mean a second Witch Hunt. That was his fear. That was the fear in heart of practically everyone under Voldemort's banner… except for those who genuinely loved war and carnage… like cousin Bella.

Though Regulus still had a heart. He might not feel much guilt after taking down a grown adult – they could defend themselves – but children? And then it happened… That accursed prophecy, the one about a _baby_ who would rid the world of Lord Voldemort… Regulus and everyone else in Voldemort's hideout that fateful evening when Snape brought back the news, bore witness to the biggest power burst (temper tantrum) ever seen by the current Dark Lord.

And the youngest Black son found himself at odds with Voldemort's ideology once again.

Killing innocent muggle children chaffed on his consciousness but it was but a sacrifice to be made in order to bring down the threat of those without magic – but dooming a magical babe born to magical parents (though the mother was a mudblood, she was still a very powerful witch) was a bit much… how many pureblood households struggled to birth a single child? How many of them would do absolutely anything to be able to have more than one or two children? Magical children are precious.

So Regulus dug into Voldemort' secrets… He left not one stone unturned as he scavenged for answers, something to justify the now growing streak of _dislike_ for the Dark Lord.

He found it.

Voldemort, once a bot named Tom Marvolo Riddle – admitted as a muggleborn in Hogwarts from a muggle orphanage in London (he was still Slytherin's heir though, dubious ancestry aside), but most of all Regulus found proof of something even more wicked than his admittedly dark morals supported.

Horcrux.

Voldemort definitely had one, maybe more than one.

Regulus had his proof, he had his redemption and his guilt guided him.

He died alone being embraced by decaying corpses, asphyxiated by the cold waters inside Voldemort's little cave.

…

And then he wasn't dead anymore.

Well… it was just like waking up after a long night of sleep. It was dark, and then it wasn't. Simple as that… or maybe not so much… _Or maybe even not at all_.

"How is my little lioness doing, who is my little-itty kitty?" A large bear of a man cooed, hovering over Regulus in such a frightening way that it took everything the Slytherin had not to cry out in fear.

"Are you done with Miruku-chan dear? Tsu-kun wants his papa too!" A woman danced into his view carrying a cute brown haired toddler, who bore a passing semblance to her. "Lemme see my Milky Kitty~!"

 _What in the name of Merlin's blessed left cheek is going on?!_

…

Reincarnation, Regulus hates thee with a passion.

When he woke up after his memory of dying, he was quite literally inside a two years old child – why he woke up at two, he'd never know – but there he was in all his new slobbering glory and short stubby limbs. It shouldn't have been so bad because frankly? He felt tired of the Wizarding World after being forsaken by it (it did not help that he openly supported the Dark Lord at the time), and it kind of made him look forward to a new life even if his new family was Mundane and he didn't have magic this time around.

Alas, it took a lot of time and effort to actually _get used_ to this new life.

He missed magic, he missed Kreater, he missed magic, he missed his old hag of a mother, he missed Sirius, he missed magic, he missed Hogwarts, he missed magic and lastly, he missed being _male._ Because his fortune wouldn't be complete without a complete plot twist. Goodbye Regulus, Black family heir and hello Miruku, two years old little tot who was barely potty trained.

It was awkward, painful, humbling and daunting all in one.

A baby's life is _boring_ without all the new things to figure out like normal babies do – his precious little child's brain already did the favor of picking up his parents' language (Japanese!) on its own during the two years his consciousness spent sleeping so that wasn't even a factor to help him stall the boredom.

At least growing up a girl in contrast to suddenly turning into one at his mental age is bound to be less traumatizing. That's his prerogative, he's sticking by it and praying almost every night that he was _never_ found out by his brother _or_ friends _or_ his brother's friends.

Another good perk?

He still landed himself a brother. And this time Regulus was _not_ going to be such a shitty brat to his sibling – determined as he was to be the best little sister _ever_ , Yoshi-ni-san was going to be the happiest bugger on this Earth.

"Mimi, Mimi, look!" Tsunayoshi held up his paint dripping hand in a proud wave that splattered their surroundings in whatever color he was painting prior to trying to catch Regulus-Mikuru's attention.

...


	11. HP 2

Fem!Severus named Sylvia Marie Snape.

 **Black Blood**

He died. That was the end of it. Bitten and mangled by a huge poisonous snake because the Dark Lord thought he might have been the possessor of the Elder Wand.

And then he wasn't dead.

At least it seemed so.

The last thing he saw were a pair of familiar green eyes framed by odious glasses and the forgiveness in them made the passing from life to death easier, as the last bits of him that still clung to life due to the honor debt was appeased before his sacrifice. Harry Potter would have to make do with what was given to him. If he couldn't get rid of Voldemort before the pile of bodies lying themselves at the idiotic boy's feet started to stench, then Severus would simple resign himself to asking Lily forgiveness from his cozy spot in hell.

Then, as if all his torment was a mere figment of his delirious imagination, he wasn't in pain anymore. Who knew in the end dying hurt so much? If there was no more pain, it meant he's passed over at last.

Or so he thought until the horrible compressions started.

Let it be known that he re-entered the world screaming… and with all the dignity being soaking wet and naked allowed him.

…

The day dawned cold and a bit dreary on that January 9. Inside the hospital ward, the cold wasn't felt as much with the heater blazing warmly and the healthy, beautiful glow that enveloped the two main characters in this scene.

A new mother and her recently born child.

"Congratulations ma'am, it's a girl"

"… what?"

"Seven and a half pounds! As healthy as they come" A baby's wail filled the maternity room.

… The child's father stared almost incomprehensively at his wife. They traded stupefied glances before he managed to articulate the sentence that changed everything.

"We were expecting a boy!"

"There is a very remote chance of this kind of thing happening, but we must account for the error margin. Sometimes it simply happens Mr. Snape" The nurse who beckoned the new father spoke to the bewildered man as he regarded the baby he thought would be a son.

"A daughter. Eileen and I have a baby girl?" The tall, burly man's hand went up to the back of his brown hair – he was quite handsome, in the nurse's opinion, and the glow of the life his wife just delivered made him even more radiant.

His large hands extended to receive the baby from her, the seasoned woman automatically tutoring the new father on how to properly hold his daughter, spoke with good humor in her eyes. "It seems so, sir, good luck with this one, she was a screamer"

And scream she did. Until the poor thing was passed to her mother's bosom and nature followed its course. The newborn had its fill of mother's milk and then fell into a mild sedated state. Large baby grey eyes peered up at the world from a wrinkled little face and the adults couldn't help but coo.

Eileen, the mother, just stared at her husband, sharing with him through eye contact just how surprised she was as well. "A girl" She breathed out, obviously exhausted from the birth and longing to just roll over and sleep for a while. "We can't name her after your Grandfather anymore"

"I guess not" Tobias grunted, entranced by the soulful moment of having that tiny little thing in his arms. She was living and breathing thanks to him and his wife – mostly his wife – but she was half _his_ , and she was _beautiful_. Shaking his head, the man reluctantly handed his daughter back to the nurse, who still had quite a few more exams to perform on the newborn. "How about Sylvia?"

The mother blinked back surprise. Sylvia was her late mother's name, and to her hidden delight, it was also a perfectly respectful Wizarding name. Yes, her baby girl would fit right in the Enclaves when she came of age. Now, how to tell her husband she was a witch and so could be his daughter? "Oh Toby, Sylvia is a lovely name" Eileen smiled up at her husband, dark eyes shining. "Sylvia Marie Snape" She finally conceded, sharing another smile with Tobias.

Marie was _his_ mother's name. It was only fair after all.

…

Sylvia was an eerily quiet baby.

She just laid there on her precious baby cot and _observed_ unnervingly whoever came to attend to her at the time.

As soon as the couple moved back to Tobias rundown house in Cokeworth, they settled down their new baby and agreed to raise her the best they could in such poor conditions – after Tobias re-painted the previous nursery from a light calm green to a cheerful, sunshine yellow shade.

As for Sylvia… As the years passed, so did she grow.

Her eyes darkened to deep pools of endless black – just like Eileen's eyes – while her hair had just the right amount of wave to make Tobias swear from up to down that his daughter would grow to have his hair – currently, Sylvia's hair was thin enough that it could pass as being brown, but Eileen knew her daughter would have her coloring.

Another thing that baffled the Snapes about their new baby was that, as soon as she could _see_ , little Sylvia just _hated_ being in her father's arms. The wives around Spinner's End told Eileen that maybe little Sylvia was just uncomfortable, but her action spurred Tobias to call up his own mum from Cardiff and ask if she could come live with them – Eileen agreed… for as much as she was a powerful witch, she's never had to deal with children before, and her mother in law had three babes in her tally.

So silent Sylvia-the-daddy-hater met her grandmother.

And both Eileen and Tobias would swear that the expression on their daughter face when she met Marie Snape for the first time was complete and utter surprise.

…

Reliving one's childhood.

Perhaps not so uncommon a desire.

Severus Snape could record several instances when he dearly wished to be able to relive his life. He'd spend nights half drunk on Fire-Whiskey, laid on his chamber's couch in front of a roaring fireplace and reminiscing about all he did wrong that he so wanted to fix. The echoes of the sound the flames made deeply imprinted in his memories. It was a sound he associated with Lily, for she was as intense and warm as fire.

He got his wish, in the end.

Only in not the exact way he'd been asking.

Well… Somewhere along the way, his chromosomes got confused. _Or something_. Because generally, when one experiences literal _rebirths_ , one expects to _remain the same merlindamned gender!_ He couldn't remember, in all his years as Albus' pawn, ever seeing Fawkes come out of the ashes as a _girl_.

He was a _boy_ Phoenix. End of talk.

But perhaps he wouldn't be bored out of his mind as he first thought – the moment the odd smelling giant (a nurse) handed his tiny, shivering body to his mother, he could instantly connect to that homely smell. Eileen smelt of magic, of dust motes found in the darkest corners of Spinner's End and of her favorite brand of Muggle soap that she never stopped using even almost twenty years of misery under magic hating Tobias Snape.

And he wouldn't be bored for one simple but astoundingly significant fact.

He was born a girl.

And he never met his grandmother the first time around… Grandmother Marie died of a pneumonia not diagnosed in time when he was perhaps two. She lived in Cardiff and only visited sparsely thanks to her failing age. However this time Tobias got so bungled out by his daughter strange behavior that he ran to the best source of comfort that wasn't his still recovering wife – his mum.

Plus, in the middle of all confusion generated by this alien babe, Eileen decided to postpone her talks of magic to her already confused husband… In Severus' first life, his mother told Tobias about magic a little after returning from the maternity ward. The man took it seriously bad and from then on, their lives spiraled from bad to worse _._

Now he only had to learn how to be a baby girl and _stop freaking out his family._

…

Sylvia was barely one when she snarled her first word. It was snarled, because apparently Eileen's baby knew more about potions than her mother.

Eileen' secret potions lab, covertly installed in a basement Tobias never bothered to visit and locked to the brim with a muggle repelling door. The witch only ever descended to her lair when her husband went out to work and her mother-in-law decided to take a little afternoon nap. The woman was getting in on her years and wasn't as springy as she used to – keeping up with Sylvia was tough once the girl started to crawl.

Of course that keeping an eleven years old babe cozily basking under a magic shield so powerful it would be able to withstand one of those muggle bombs, in the middle of her potions lab, seemed like a good idea for a bored, stay at home witch.

Alas it proved true.

Distracted for a second, Eileen was about to toss powdered Beetles without the customary counter-clockwise stir – the Luxurious Hair-Care potion would have been ruined – but Sylvia had to open her cute button mouth and snarl with all the indignation her little face could muster.

" _Mu No!"_

The witch honestly didn't know how to explain _that one_ to her husband and mother-in-law, but in the end both understood that the occasion could be attributed to being another one of Sylvia's idiosyncrasies.

Living with Muggles was harder than she thought, maybe she should write a guide book for foolish witches who wished to run away with their handsome muggle neighbors in the future. Yeah, that was a sound plan.

At least until Sylvia started displaying Accidental Magic. That would go _well,_ too, Eileen thought blithely.

…

Tobias Snape stared at his wife. Baffled, confused, _hurt._

Marie Snape stared at her daughter in law with a suspicious amused light glinting in the back of her eyes.

Sylvia Marie Snape stared at her mother with what amounted to a huge dollop of plain _horror_.

Wife, Daughter-in-law and mother stared at her family with a blank face. Eileen Prince-Snape was _not joking_. "Yes, I have magic, yes, I am a witch, and yes, so can Sylvia be as well"

"And you hid this from me for all these years? Eileen?" Tobias grounded out between his clenched jaws. The only thing preventing him from exploding was his elderly and sick mother sitting just an inch to his right. He was also holding onto Sylvia – who in a rare moment of understanding allowed her father to hold her without making a fuss.

The second one to burst was Sylvia. "Mummy!" She cried out, an admonishing tilt to her tiny features that spoke loudly of berating her mum. The expression seemed to scream ' _how could you?!'_ so acutely the adults just decided to ignore the child known for such oddities.

The last one to speak was Marie, who was smiling so largely she could have contended for Cheshire Cat position and _won_. "Finally! Another witch in the family!" The old lady beamed proudly.

"Mother!" Tobias' shocked eyes met his mum's. "What?!"

"What…?" Sylvia grunted, black eyes so wide they looked like plates.

"What?" Eileen's intelligent response joined them.

"Oh Toby… I never told you about grandmum Stella, did I? My mother's name was Stella Nott, and she was a Squib ( _is that the right word dear Leen?_ ). Her family disowned her and she fled to London where she met my dad. Old man fell in love and soon my sister and I were born…" And on Marie went, talking about her sister Rosa until… "And one day during dinner ( _it was Rosa's birthday too!_ ) An owl knocked on the window and…"

And Great Aunt Rosa ended up being a witch. Unfortunately Sylvia's great aunt was long gone. " _Dragon Pox, whatever that is…"_ according to grandma Marie.

The night ended with an open bottle of bourbon shared around those between 3-63 and Eileen hesitantly asking if she should cast a couple of diagnosing charms on her mother-in-law – catching the developing disease and controlling it in time with a heavy potion prescription.

Tobias was so thankful – if not still a little hurt – that he could careless about magic being the work of demons if it could give him a couple more years with his mum. His own aunt has been a witch! Who was he to complain about his wife?!

In a contented little doze, baby Sylvia basked in a well won _victory_.

Even if it came as a big surprise to her as well.

…

 _Who knew?_ Sylvia wondered. In Severus' first life, Grandma Marie was _never_ involved because Tobias didn't want his mum ashamed of him and his _unnatural_ wife and son. Oh the shame! They never went to visit the old lady in her house in Cardiff and Tobias always refused to receive her during the hols until poor Marie kicked the bucket without ever having met her grandson.

Tobias was the reason Severus hated muggles. Muggles _only_ , please. He had nothing against _muggle_ borns – quite the contrary, actually.

As Sylvia, however, _she_ was seeing a whole new, undiscovered side to Tobias Snape.

He was a good dad.

 _He was a good dad._

The monster of her destroyed childhood was giving his second life the best second childhood _ever._

 _ **He was a good dad**_. And Severus couldn't begrudge Sylvia the luck she's had with their father, although he sorely wanted to… (The only reason he didn't was because he _was Sylvia_ , hah!)

…

All in all, living in a girl's body wasn't so bad for an almost forty years old Wizard.

It was a bit awkward. True. But by far the pros outnumbered the cons – If Severus was being honest with himself, the only _con_ he could see so far was also the major _pro_ in his life as Severus…

Lily.

He loved Lily.

A deep passion that went from tender care to an ugly obsessive fixation at his rock bottom moments… Sometimes, as Severus, when he looked at Harry Potter in those rare moments in which the boy displayed behaviors so characteristically _Lily_ , the bitter man couldn't help but imagine what a child borne between him and Lily would be like.

Now as Sylvia, that was an impossibility… Oh, he could try and sway Lily's romantic heart toward Sylvia – but Severus was never a seducer and he'd honestly _miss_ Harry. The trice damned boy and his catching stupidity wormed their way into his frozen heart. Lily deserved her son, she deserved to watch him grow and live through all the happiness she was deprived from the first time.

"Vee?" His dad called. Severus shook his head, mindful of the myriad of ribbons his mother tied to Sylvia's thick, straight hair and looked at his father with a moue of question to his now pouty, pink lips. "What flavor do you want tot?"

Oh right.

They were at the local park, talking to a Gelato stand and ordering Ice-cream. Lily and her family was also standing right across from them. "I want dark chocolate daddy" Severus forced himself to produce the cadencies of a little girl's voice talking to her father. It gave him more metaphysical cavities than the Ice-cream ever could.

The vendor handed Sylvia the dark chocolate cone. Tobias received his portion of plain vanilla and paid for their treats. "Eat your Gelato tot, then you can go play with the other kids" The father told his daughter when he noticed the oddly intense stare she was directing at the nearest family of four. There were two little girls about Sylvia's age.

Thus Tobias deduced his baby girl wanted to play.

Severus wished he could get away with strangling his father. In more ways than one.

It only got worse when Mark Evans approached them first with a large smile on his face and his family behind him. "Hello. I'm Mark and this is Holly, we live just down the street." A little red haired girl tugged on his pants. "Oh! And this is Lily! She was wondering if she could play with…"

"Sylvia" Tobias grinned, shaking Mark's hand and proving to Severus that yes, he could hate his father even more. "And I'm Tobias Snape"

…

Lily remembered a little bit of when she was four and a half and her daddy took their family to the Park. It was Sunday and the day was wonderful to be spent outside, not even Petunia was complaining about gaining more freckles!

They bought Ice cream and were enjoying the impromptu out under the shade of a park tree.

"Want to play chase Tuny?" Lily asked her sister. And since Petunia was already seven and a big girl, she thought it wouldn't do to be seen cavorting like a little kid with her baby sister.

"No. Why don't you ask someone else?" The older sister denied, their mum watching the scene and sensing a temper tantrum from Lily, rapidly took the younger sister by the arm and pointed to the nearest kid her age she could find.

A thin, raven haired little girl who was already in the process of acquiring Ice cream for the summer day… She was wearing a pretty white and green dress, with her long straight hair done in green satin ribbons.

"What if she no want play with me too?" Lily pouted. Holly Evans turned to her husband with exasperation written all over her face. The dad nodded quickly, grabbing Lily's hand and dragging her over to where they could all see the other pair of father-daughter.

"I'm sure she will love to play with you honey. Let's go ask her"

"You ask her daddy"

Now, about a year have gone by and the two girls were starting school together in the community center near Spinner's End – a choice came upon both set of parents when they noticed the childishly adorable friendship (mixed with puppy love from Sylvia's part) between the girls.

"We're witches" Sylvia told Lily.

Lily's eyes were wide, and she had a displeased crease between her auburn colored eyebrows. "But I want to be a princess" The red head pronounced sullenly to her best friend.

The raven haired girl shook her head. "No Lily. Listen. We can do magic, you remember the time you broke your mum's vase…"

"Petunia said she'd tattle on me and I started crying and then mummy came home and Tuney ran over to her and I panicked…"

"And the vase wasn't broken anymore. You fixed it, with magic!"

It was amazing, Lily decided not to get offended at being called a witch. She could still be a princess when she and Sylvia played play pretend. Sylvia always let her be whatever she wanted – but now the two of them were witches! "We're going to be good witches! Like the Wizard of Oz and Gandalf!"

…

Severus did not remember how much of a brat little Lily could be.

Perhaps in the burrows of his boyhood memories, he'd already framed Lily with a bright golden halo that sanctified the girl through the eyes of a misguided boy. He didn't remember how pushy the red head was, or how she'd always want to have her way. It was, he realized in annoyed epiphany, just like any other annoyingly healthy child he ever met.

Though Lily was _not_ worse than Draco Malfoy. That boy would always take the cake. _Always_.

Petunia was another surprise.

Once he could see beyond the bitter, jealous woman she became and the fact she'd abuse Harry out of spite – and see the developing potential in the older girl, he regretted his brattish behavior in excluding the older sister just because she was muggle… that and almost crushing her with a branch. He regretted that, yeah.

This time around, although Petunia made airs of importance, she absolutely adored to play around with Lily when she wasn't in one of her _moods_. Subsequently, when Sylvia joined them for play time, the older girl would take the reigns of most of their games and dictate the rules. To Severus' new eyes, Petunia Evans was as much a Slytherin as he was.

Petunia was still tall and thin. Her hair was a light strawberry blonde color, more blond than red, that was getting increasingly lighter every summer Petunia spent outdoors.

Severus would one day bite his own tongue before admitting this but…

He liked Petunia this time around.

When his eyes were not clouded by prejudice and Petunia's view of magic haven't taken a turn for the worse.

Oh… she was still jealous of their magic, but with a bit of cunning and reverse psychology, Sylvia managed to convince Petunia that not having magic was a _good thing_ for her. Lily had to be manipulated as well though. The ongoing argument went like this: " _Lily and I are witches, thus, you are going to be the princess this time!"_

If there was one thing Petunia Evans adored, was being the center of attention.

" _If Tuny is a princess, then I'm one as well, we're sisters!"_ went Lily's logic. Sylvia didn't have the heart to object – she didn't mind being the evil witch at every round and turn if it meant the Evans sisters were happy and content with him and each other.

…

Now that Eileen knew that her husband didn't hate magic, and consequently _her_ , all thanks to the untimely intervention of her mother-in-law (the old lady already returned to Cardiff) – the witch' suggestion that she participated in their home's income was met with only the slightest bit of hesitancy.

"I can brew from the basement" Eileen said to Tobias over the dinner table. "Sylvia is old enough that she doesn't need enough supervision, and while she's at school and you're away in the factory, I can work on some potions orders"

Tobias was hesitating because he's been raised to think women didn't have to work. His own payment from the Factory was only barely enough so they wouldn't go without home and food. But Sylvia was a growing girl, and he consciously realized that any boost on their family's income was welcome.

Even if it meant his wife would be working as well.

"Potion orders?" He asked instead of wondering if she'd have time for the house chores. He noticed soon enough that living with a witch entailed a life of untold comforts in a way. With a silly wave of her wand, all indoors chores were done in a spell. Not Literally. Of course. But spelling the broom to sweep by itself was easy enough for his wife and so on. She'd told him about her secret potions lab that he was forbidden to wander into unless she was around – he took it with a grain of salt – but in the end it was a nice pastime for Eileen since it kept her in the house and he didn't mind her keeping her lab that much after all.

Eileen nodded. "I garden in the mornings" She beamed at him, proud of her small garden and he smiled back. Their house was old but the garden was pristine. "And while Sylvia is away at school, I can fill some simple potion orders, I do have my NEWTS" That didn't answer his question. His wife noticed and kept explaining. "My old potion master owns an apothecary, they are always in need of potion makers to prepare pre-made potions for selling. It won't be much, but I want to help you, Toby"

And that undid him. His witch only wanted to help him.

He thought of something else. "Has Sylvia shown any sign of magic at all?"

Both parents turned to their daughter. Said daughter just swallowed her bite of pie and smiled at them, that little secret smile she seemed to reserve for when they asked ridiculously obvious questions. "I have magic daddy, mummy…look" With a wave of her tiny hands, Sylvia floated off the dinner chair and rose softly to the ceiling where she waved down at her parents. "Lily has magic as well; may I call her over tomorrow to play Gobstones?"

Way to drop the news.

…

After Sylvia's relatively shocking revelation to her parents that yes, she had magic, and yes, she was highly aware of what it was since she wasn't a simpleton, and yes, she's already told Lily – Tobias and Eileen Snape together with the Evans couple came to an agreement quickly enough regarding their daughters' magical studies.

"What about normal school?" The Snape father asked with something like doubt wavering in his voice. He wanted his girl to at least finish school so she wouldn't be taken advantage of. It was also a nice opportunity to find a good husband for her too. A good boy from a good family in the community… one look at Sylvia had him convinced of one thing though, _not happening._

Eileen, having the sole privilege of being the only one amongst them who had a complete magical education, piped in, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "There are untold possibilities for careers in the Enclaves. Sylvia and Lily are two smart girls, and I'm sure that opportunities for them both won't be short" she pointed out.

"What kind of careers are we talking about?" Mark Evans asked after being nudged by Holly.

The Snape witch hummed under her breath, absently tapping her lips in thought. "It really varies." She started "For example, should they excel in any given subject, they could invest in a mastery course for it and work as private consultants or even teachers. The Wizarding World has its own version of Doctors, though they're called Healers – and there is a special police force as well… They could also seek apprenticeship in any given trade, become researchers – such as spell or potion development, curse breakers, ward smiths, barristers, politicians… really! Anything!"

Looking interested, Eileen's husband and their friends nodded slowly.

"It seems that opportunity won't be a problem at all!" Holly remarked, eyes wide. "Imagine Lily as a… what was it you said Eileen? A Healer? Imagine Lily as a Healer!" It was as good as a Doctor according to Eileen, and they knew how smart Lily is.

The only one who still had a bit of doubt was Tobias, since his military father and his stay-at-home-mum educated him with that mindset – it was a huge stretch and proof of his faith in Eileen that he'd allow her to continue working, but his daughter? He only wanted Sylvia to find a good husband and…

If he knew his Sylvia right, she'd bend the very rules of their lives as always and leave him with his mouth hanging open while she mocked his perception of reality.

"Sylvia is really good with Potions" That was an understatement. Since diapers days Sylvia was already keeping an eye on her mum's potions, but Eileen was all smiles and he smiled with her.

Tobias took a deep breath. This was it. Truth time.

"When is that letter you talked about arriving again?" He asked Eileen while she beamed proudly.

…

They were eleven and their Hogwarts letters just arrived.

Sylvia stared at the school owl with a sort of detached interest, Eileen noticed. Not reacting like a normal child just receiving the Letter. For it deserved a capital. The Letter sat there by the owl, unopened and ignored since Sylvia's dark eyes were trailed on the owl.

"Mum, I think the owl has my Hogwarts acceptance letter" The eleven years old told her mother, face changing into an expression of sincere bewilderment – as if she could hardly believe The Letter was there.

"It does" Eileen Prince-Snape confirmed slowly, reaching out for The Letter and wondering in what moment of her life would Sylvia act as expected.

In another house a few blocks over, Lily was opening her own Letter.

"Where is mine?" Petunia asked, eyes bright with unshed tears and face tight in anger. But then, before their parents could say anything, Lily remembered all the times Sylvia managed to turn Petunia's jealousy around and in their favor.

"Do you think that if I really become a witch I will be as pretty and smart as you are, Tuny?" The small red head spoke quickly, diverting her older sister's attention to something that was bound to pick her interest. "I still don't understand how you got rid of your freckles!"

Blatant manipulation. Holly Evans gaped for a single second, not believing her ears – her little bratty red head was doing damage control in a level worthy of Sylvia…

Oh. Right. Who was Lily's best friend again?

Thirteen years old Petunia sniffed, but Holly could see how her mood was changed from dangerously explosive to reasonably pensive. "I'm sure Tuney can teach you her tricks so you don't have to resort to a magic spell, Lily" The mom commented, eyeing as her eldest daughter seemed to come to a realization.

"And maybe Sylvia and I could make more friends… Tuny has lots of other friends now that she's in upper school" Lily continued as if Holly hadn't spoken. Because only Holly knew how Lily was unmanageable when she was in a mood. Only Petunia and Sylvia were able to keep up with Lily – she intimidated the other girls too much and the ones brave enough to approach, were ran off by Sylvia herself.

"Perhaps…" Petunia allowed, swallowing down the vile feelings that were creeping up her chest. She also wanted to try magic, to be special… but… "I will help you with your freckles before you start school" the elder Evans sister offered tremulously, eyeing Lily's letter with a small envious cloud in her bright, teary eyes.

Mark and Holly traded looks. They were a little weary of Petunia's temper.

…

The first time he saw her was as she made her way through the Hogwarts Express in search of a free compartment. In his own, there were only three other boys and there was space enough for _her_.

He waved, but she never even looked his way.

It was as she passed through his compartment that he noticed a second girl following behind the first.

The second girl did more than stare. She glared. Glared with the hatred of Nemesis, as if she couldn't wait for the chance to dance upon his grave.

"Hey mate, are you alright?" Sirius called. He'd met the other boy in the station and they found themselves quickly becoming friends. His mum and Sirius' mum were cousins or something like that - maybe that's why they never met growing up.

"Yeah… just excited and all"

"Me too… What house do you think you will be in?"

"Not Slytherin! If I'm sorted in there I think I'll ask my dad to transfer me out!"

"Huh…" Sirius sighed. "My whole family has been in Slytherin… I hope I'm not"

…

"Slytherin!" The hat cried out. The little red haired girl jumped off the stool and grinned nervously as her previously plain black school robes turned silver and green, all the way to her tie. After the magical color theme change, the red head girl walked giddily to her new table, meeting the eyes of her housemates and later, waving at her best friend when she was also sorted in Slytherin.

That night in September first, 1971 when the pair of friends met in a giggling mess inside their dormitory, was when Severus (as Sylvia) finally understood what was going on.

Lily Evans was in Slytherin.

Now… It was quite common to assume that because of Salazar Slytherin's infamous spat against Godric Gryffindor, that he was also against all things muggle. It was an exaggeration, since Slytherin house had muggleborns sorted into it as much as the other houses. The difference was that Slytherin muggleborns, after their first night in the dungeons, would never, ever admit to being muggleborns for fear of simply being overlooked for the more prestigious, known family names.

They understood early on what they had to do to stay on top. Simple as that.

During his life as Severus, he tried to convince Lily to be sorted into Slytherin. And for all she said she would go to the house of snakes to be with him, Lily was _not_ silver and green material. She was hot headed and brash, and for all her smarts, Lily could be obtuse and slow in certain cases – she would be eaten alive in the snake house.

Thus the hat saved her by placing Lily in Gryffindor, where her personality matched more.

Now _this_ Lily. Sylvia's best friend Lily since they were four. This Lily learned how to be cunning by observing Sylvia. By playing with her and adopting the subtle art of manipulation (mainly their parents and Petunia) to attain their own mean, and simply because the bond between two girls ran in a different level than the bond between a girl and a boy… There were things that as a boy he could _never_ share with Lily without being the king of awkwardness.

As Sylvia, Severus understood several of Lily's temper tantrums and consequent issues. Having a more stable family life than her male counterpart also served to help Sylvia understand the world Lily came from and relate to her better. This understanding bridge went both ways. Consequently Lily started to mimic Sylvia the way children mimicked their closest friends in habits and mannerisms.

Lily Evans was a baseborn Gryffindor wearing Slytherin clothes.

And Sylvia couldn't be happier.

…


	12. HP x VHD

Um, a rare crossover... fem!Harry/D in a Harry Potter/Vampire Hunder D thingy.  
Warnings: AU, fem!Harry, Violence.

 **Vampire Hunter D: The Witch's Wish.**

 **Prologue.**

 _The rustle of wind made even the sturdiest of trees sway like lithe dancers. The moon was high, perked on the sky and grinning maniacally down to the Earth. Framing along the stone road, rows of hydrangeas were planted neatly, the deep purple flower reflecting a faint light from above, illuminated the well-kept path ahead._

 _There, crowning a hill, was a house._

 _The boy grinned happily, approaching the unassuming structure with a skip in his step. As long as he managed to get there, everything would be fine._

…

 _Witches' Grove. Mostly known as the Grove, is a town in Albion. They say it was founded by a witch, her house still stands in the middle of the forest. As of lately, really strange things have been happening there._

" _This really is something else, huh?_ " A rustle of clothes. Left hand was raised to touch along the length of an invisible boundary, creating a precise bubble that cut the path of that left hand owner right on its tracks.

"A barrier, a powerful one" The voice was a low murmur. Dark eyes observed the rest of the road that led to a considerably large and prosperous town by the edge of the northeastern frontier. "The call came from there" He noted to himself since his keen vision able to make the faint contours of tiled roofs a few miles ahead. "Can you find a weakness?"

" _Piece of cake, just keep to your left a couple of steps and you will find a small fracture, with enough force we can go through"_ The male did just that. Finding the fracture by the slight feeling of pressure from his fingers was easy, all he had to do was look for the telltale crack. A barrier this size had to have a few of those, even though it would take someone like _him_ to find them.

A shimmer. Just where the barrier divided the road. The male simply rode through as if there was nothing there. Distantly, he could hear the shudder of effort coming from the large construct – as if his presence affected it more than he could predict.

Not his problem.

But he had to notice something. The world seemed… calmer, on the inside of the giant bubble. Even the sun was hurting less. Using his second vision, he could clearly see the pearly shade creating the dome extending even miles around the town.

Without another word, the dark male pulled on the reins of his mechanic mount and settled in a stable run toward the town.

Witches' Grove was quaint. That's the first impression that came to mind. Differently than most humans settling, the Grove was not the compact, efficient type of town. Whereas usually the buildings were tall and mostly non-descript with few details, the neat rolls of houses he could see here were exactly the opposite.

Orange-brown tiled roofs, with wooden ruffles just like those remote Dutch villages. Arched windows and paneled doors, the earthen tones of the foundations' bricks was what made the scene look so picturesque. Tall, rare willows in spaced segments, the streets were paved with stone so old, it was like a patchwork where the wore out pieces had to be replaced by newer ones.

The people were mingling around, stores open and vendors worriedly conversing with each-other. It didn't take long for them to notice him, though. He managed to go as far as the nearest intersection.

Alarm spreads quickly after all. It was darkly amusing and a little saddening to watch the town people scramble their females behind a line of work sturdy looking men, not all holding a make-shift weapon.

"Who are you and how in the seventh hell did you pass through the wards?" A tall man stepped forward. He had bright red hair that curled slightly over a high forehead. The dark male said nothing, stoically waiting atop his eerie horse. He was wearing durable leather vests over a cotton shirt and a woolen cap.

"Answer the damn question!" Another redhead, thinner, but equally as tall man called out. This one held a large shotgun trained directly at the intruding male's head. His clothes were much the same. "We don't take kindly to strangers, and you're quite strange, so state your name and how you got pass the wards"

Sometimes, it was best to acquiesce with the wishes of desperate folks. "I am D" He introduced, voice devoid of any emotion. "I am a hunter… now tell me, where are your children?" The last question was totally ignored though; he thought he was shocking enough to have them ignore it completely.

There was no child in sight.

D dismounted his horse, the men still held their weapons in alarm, though they relaxed their guard a bit. The same stocky red haired man and who could only be his brother joined the dark hunter by his horse, the thinner man still holstering the shotgun at D.

Seeing as men were approaching the hunter, more people clustered closer.

"A hunter you say? Are you any good?" Redhead asked, blue eyes narrowing.

"Wait. Did you say D? Are you really the Dhampiel hunter?" Shotgun guy lowered his fire weapon, garnering a few confused looks and getting D to be the target of a couple of analyzing ones.

"Dhampiel?" Whispers ran through the crowd. The hunter was used to them. But to his surprise, no words of contempt left these people's lips – they were intrigued by his half-blood status, discussing his looks and just gossiping. Little by little, an electrifying feeling started to run amongst the townspeople.

" _Isn't this a very unusual reaction? Maybe they've run out of pitchforks"_ Left hand's whispers had D's eyebrow shooting up. Indeed, for what had to be the first time in his life, he wasn't being received by distrust just because of his half-blood, these people were more concerned about the fact he was a _foreigner_ in their town – that he was a Dhampiel seemingly calmed them down was a miracle.

A very strange and suspicious miracle.

"If you're really the Dhampiel hunter, then we want to hire you!" Redhead came a few more steps closer. D resisted the urge to flinch back, keeping his emotionless face in place. "My name is William Bawny, this is my twin brother Charles, why don't you come to our house where we can discuss things more quietly?"

The awed whispers were getting annoying very fast.

Wordlessly, D caught his horses' reins and nodded. William smiled tiredly, parting the circle of worried people neatly since he had the dhampiel following after him. As awestruck as everyone was, they still had this fearful respect for his presence. Well, at least that removed some of the previous twilight zone feeling that had crawled up his spine.

A number of uncountable eyes followed after them. D could hear each and every heart beating becomingly.

Thankfully, the track to the Bawny home wasn't long.

"You can leave your horse in the stable" Charles, the younger red haired brother pointed to an adjoined building just right of their house. The house itself followed the same patterns of the town, though instead of bricks, it was built by thick lumbers piled one on top of the other.

The brothers followed after D to the stable, where the black mechanical horse was tied with a basin of water for its tank. To the brother's credit, there was a door that led from the stables to an antechamber before the kitchen area – so the three entered from there.

When they were all comfortably sitting in the living room, D shot them both with his imposing stare, silently demanding answers. Trading glances with his Charles, William started.

"Two weeks ago, little Dan Mitchelson disappeared into the forest. We spent days searching for him but there was no trace. Just when we thought him dead, other four girls disappeared. Daisy and Rose Miles, Dorothy Campbell and July Kzarveritch… we searched all over the place but just like the Mitchelson kid, there was no clue… until a week ago, when all of our children just were gone. Two hundred innocent children…" He paused, took a deep breath then finished "Then, a few days ago, that strange barrier around town. We can't leave, no one can enter."

"We want you to find the children and find out what is causing the barrier" Charles put in. "We're willing to pay you half a million dollars, one fifth now, the rest when we have the children back"

D's face showed nothing, but his eyes were flashing when he finally spoke. "There is no guaranty the children are still alive" Someone had to point it out, these people seemed too naïve to process that possibility.

Again, the brothers exchanged glances.

"They are alive" William spoke confidently. "We cannot accept that our children are gone, but we can't go outside the barrier"

D nodded, thoughtful, his mind firing up possibility after possibility. He wasn't willing to bet on anything right now though.

"If anyone knows where the children are, then it's the witch" Charles pointed out with a soft growl in his voice. The thin face was hard, and his lips were pressed tightly together. "She has them I'm sure, the other folks agree with me"

William visibly tensed. "Don't be so hasty throwing around accusations" The larger man cut through his brother's glare with one of his own.

"This witch. Where do I find her?" D broke the two out of their staring contest. William clicked his tongue while Charles smiled grimly.

"In the forest, we've never been able to find her house, but it's there… during the coldest nights we can see the smoke rising from the fireplace"

Interesting. Another barrier perhaps?

"I will be going then" The dark hunter stared intently at the two red heads. Charles nodded, eyebrows furrowed while William reached for a leather purse from inside a vase – the money hidden in there, it seemed.

"Listen hunter… everyone pooled this money so we could hire someone worthy to investigate the children's disappearance. We're placing the whole town's hope on you, so please, please bring our children back"

…

 _Dan Mitchelson was a cherubic boy. With curly strawberry blonde hair and sky blue eyes that glimmered when he smiled. His face was boyish and chubby, which made the six years old child very beautiful in his own way. He was friends with all his neighbors – but his best friends were his two second cousins Daisy and Rose, because even though they are girls, they knew how to have fun._

 _Then, there was Dorothy, Daisy and Rose's best friend – she was the daughter of Mr. Campbell, the baker from the end of the street. Mr. Campbell always had a tray of cake crumbles when they went to visit, so Dorothy was alright to hang out with. And finally, Dan's almost brother (since they were so close and together all the time) July, who was the son of one of his father's friends, so they kind of grew up alongside each other._

 _Usually, none of the children caused trouble. They loved to play by the river, picking berries and flowers and chasing the woodland creatures. All of them were about six or seven years old, it stood to reason they didn't mingle too much with the elder kids – some of them were mean, and Gerard Duckali liked to bully Dorothy, who was plump with rosy cheeks and a bit overweight._

 _One day, while exploring along the river side, Dan got lost from his friends. He tried to backtrack, but it was already afternoon and the sun was sinking down, casting confusing shadows and scaring the little boy into tears._

" _Hey there munchkin, what are you doing so far into the forest?"_

 _Turning around, Dan's blue eyes widened. That had to be the prettiest lady he's ever seen. Wiping the tears from his eyes hurriedly (men don't cry, and he was man, right?). He question registered in his suddenly calm mind and he answered, still hiccupping a little._

" _I-I'm lost…"_

 _The lady smiled kindly, showing dimples on each cheek and a sparkle inside deep green eyes. She offered a hand. "Come with me, I'll take you back to the road back, we might even find your little friends" Her hand was soft and warm as it encased Dan's. "My name is Iliana, what is your name?"_

" _Dan" He gained a little more courage and smiled back at the lady._

…

The first thing the dark hunter did was go to the road connecting the town to the forest path. There was a distinct track trailing in, sign of a stampede of feet coming and going constantly. Sounds of rushing water reached his sensitive hearing from the left, and his nose was able to pick the different human scents that passed recently. He was no hound though, so it didn't matter much.

What did was what his left hand could tell him.

"Can you sense something?" The thin, pale hand was lifted, palm facing the forest.

" _Yeah… right through there, maybe a mile or two, feels powerful_ " D nodded silently, curling his fingers over the palm and tightening his sword's leather' strap with the other hand. The darker than black heavy cloak was useful to protect him against the irritatingly humid air. He'd trust the parasitic demon to guide him to the right place.

Without any more dallying, D pressed forward, following the trail in a brisk pace. Although he believed the children were lost, that little spark of hope that maybe not all of them were gone yet, insisted in being a nuisance in his consciousness.

A Witch. Accused of kidnapping children. How… old.

" _Hey D… something in this town makes no sense, I hope you're keeping on guard through this"_ The demon only spoke what was already in his mind. Rare and very, very strange were the occasions in which he found himself _not_ considered a monster just because he was a Dhampiel. The townspeople felt distrustful toward him at least until he revealed he was a half-breed. Then again, he hasn't heard of a noble in the area yet – maybe this town escaped the Nobility's eyes and was vampire free, so they didn't appreciate the fear of living alongside such creatures brought the common folk.

His armor protected him from the wild flora as he waked, the foliage under his feet was a little tricky though, he had to apply all his balance and grace to be able to move without making a sound, a true hunter of the night – the thought made him cringe internally.

" _There! Just ahead! Look around D, there should be some marking nearby"_ Left hand piped in, whispering just loud enough so the hunter would be able to hear. D followed the council, sharp eyes calculatingly passing through the path. It didn't look any different from normal, but if his old companion said there was something here, then there should be.

There. His senses widened their scope. A faint buzzing started to grate into his own particular brand of inherit magic – it led his eyes to an almost invisible mark, painted carefully in a glossy gold paint that reflected the forest's colors around it, making it really hard to point out.

A triangle with a circle fit in the middle, and a line dividing it in two.

" _Let me see it!"_ Left hand demanded. D felt the urgency in his partner's voice and traced the symbol with his hand, not touching it but coming close enough. " _D… This is fishy… don't you remember this symbol?"_

Not particularly. It was geometrical and didn't spark any memories. At least none that came instantly to mind.

"No" His low voice rumbled.

Left hand cussed a string of words that had D clenching his hand just to shut him up. " _Are you kidding me?! D! Think back, way back, before you left-!"_

Understanding crashed over him, making his face become even stonier and his eyes harder than black diamonds. Unsavory things from his childhood bubbled to the surface unbidden, and suddenly he recalled just _where_ he saw this symbol before. An old book in his _sire'_ s library, a little boy seeking a haven where he'd be left alone and a hopeful afternoon reading about _Death_. His sire caught him before he could finish even the first page and he never had the chance to enter the library by himself again.

" _Do you understand now D? Whoever this witch is, she knows what this means… be careful kid"_

Taking a moment to re-compose himself, D strode forward in fearless purpose. This case became more serious than he thought it could (missing children were _not_ to be taken lightly), but a witch who had _any_ knowledge of what might have been in _that_ book was dangerous, too dangerous to be left alone.

It didn't take more than a couple of steps for the scene around him to melt and change drastically. The dense forest simply ceased to exist, and there in front of him was a house surrounded by a well-cared for garden.

The house was three stories high, thin with crumbled sides, it seemed as if someone took a house from a roll of houses and planted it there… There was no fence he could see, then again, with a protection like that _barrier_ , what could a fence do? To make things even more surreal, the mail box still stood in front of a pebbled path that led to the front door, reading in cheerful letters ' _#12 Grimmald Place'_.

A power unlike any he's ever felt before washed over him. D could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end – _caution –_ his vampire blood was singing in ecstasy, this hunt would be _fabulous_ , _he couldn't wait for the time when he could sink his aching fangs on the neck of this powerful being and make that power_ _ **his**_ _and-_ that wasn't going to work. Bloodlust clouding his judgment was never a good thing…

A light was lit inside the house. The first floor's windows blazing bright, warm light onto the garden beyond, it was enough to startle the beats inside of him back into his control. D's hand traveled to the handle of his sword as he approached the door with caution filled steps.

Should he knock?

"You know, it's impolite to stalk a lady's home like that" A breath, the sound of a sword cutting through the air in a deadly whistle. There was nothing there. " _Behind you!_ " D's swirled on his nimble feet, pointing the tip of his sword to a gap of empty space just in front of him. "Oh my…" That same voice. Female, a strange accent he could just place next to his… no… but it was close enough.

"Show yourself" His voice was hard and commanding, his power rose in challenge in a cloud of darkness around him. He heard the woman suck in a sharp breath, and the next moment, his orders were met when a young woman, between sixteen and seventeen, materialized from the air right in front of his sword, blinking large green eyes at him like a startled doe.

A satin smooth whisper in the back of his mind was compelling ungraceful thoughts into his mind, the predator longed to get out, just a _little, just a nibble, she'd even like_ _it-_ if he didn't jump her like a common beast.

She had to be the witch… not the most beautiful woman he's seen, but her power made up for it in spades. It was a warm honeyed cape all over her skin, making her glow as if lit by an inner fire. Pure green eyes, large and curious, were staring at him with a mostly hidden calculating glint in them behind an elegant glasses frame.

Just as suddenly as her eyes met his, he saw her face brighten in recognition. His heart sped up in response to that expression.

He wanted to sink his sword deeply into her heart, but the moment dragged on and she didn't say a word, though her eyes were bleeding recognition. She knew him. _She knew him_. Or maybe she knew his sire, that'd would explain the presence of _that_ symbol.

Which was dangling from her dainty neck. Wore like common jewelry.

"Who are you?" His low tones filled her garden. In the distance, all forest sounds stopped being important. All that mattered was the vibrations caused by his voice and the soft beating of her heart, like butterflies wings inside her ribcage

"I'd be glad to answer that, as soon as I don't have a bloody sword about to poke my eyes out!" She huffed, puffing out a long strand of russet colored hair that drifted to her face with one short breath. When he hesitated, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't be blinkered, you're the one holding the pointy end of your sword at me!"

"Where are the children?" He wouldn't relent. All his instincts were screaming at him to be wary of the young woman who stood unblinkingly in front of the business end of his sword.

As soon as he ended his question, however, he face cleared with understanding.

"You're a hunter? They hired a hunter to come after me? Blimey! It's been a while since I've been into town!" She smiled, it was a dangerously deceptive smile. "I took the children, yes, I won't beat around the bush, but I won't be giving them back yet"

She obviously knew he was a Dhampiel, yet she chose not to voice it. Almost bristling, the only thing stopping his blade from killing the witch was the fact she had hidden two hundred children somewhere and he had no idea where to start looking.

"Where are they?" His voice escalated from menacing to dangerous in a heartbeat. Everything in him was insisting he end her existence right here and now, the tread of sanity grounding his thought process was that single fact: He now knew the children were alive, from the way she spoke her words.

A blink. Plentiful eyelashes fluttering over a creamy, smooth cheek. "I will return the younglings safe and sound… I promise, but first, we have a more dangerous monster to catch" the wind blew between them. "And you've led it right here…"

In an instant, he was leaping back just in time to avoid being impaled by a huge black scythe that descended from the air above. The world revolved into chaos in an second.

…

 **Chapter 01: Iliana**

Iliana noticed she wasn't getting any older on the day of her thirtieth birthday, when she looked at her bathroom's mirror after brushing her teeth and saw the same face she's always seen every year. At first, she wistfully thought her genes were exceptionally good, but even Ron, who looked a lot like his father and inherited the Weasley's longevity, was starting to develop a widows' peak. Hermione looked a lot more mature as well, and that didn't have anything to do with her two children.

Neville had a white streak of hair growing just at the side of his forehead. It was thin, but those singled strands only served to show Iliana that her friends were moving on while she stayed the same.

The very next day on August first, Iliana was parking her broom at the nearest magi-geneticist (a relatively new brand of studies developed to prove once and for all that there was no noteworthy difference between a pureblood wizard and a muggleborn one) for an in depth exam. She was ushered into the examination room as soon as her feet came in, being recognized as a National hero sometimes had its perks.

"Before we start anything I want a vow of silence from all of you who will see my exams" The witch stated forcefully, not wanting to risk anything untoward getting into the ears of the media, and consequently made public knowledge. As of lately, the more paranoid and busybody magicals were campaigning that she was to be the next dark lady – they were considered insane and treated as such – but the seed of misgiving was there, she didn't need anything more to make it grow.

The magi-geneticist frowned, lips pursued. "Don't worry Ms. Potter, all of us have sworn Confidentiality Vows to our patients, but if it makes you feel better, we can vow again in front of you" The two nurses behind him nodded agreeably. "I, Darwine Charl DuPea do solemnly swear to keep the results of one Iliana Lilly Potter a secret to myself, and myself only, so mote it be" The wizard's wand was raised as he spoke the words, and by the end of them, the wand blinked out with a burst of magic that tied the wizard to his vow.

After the nurses repeated the vows, Iliana felt comfortable enough to declare. "Then I, Iliana Lilly Potter, do hereby assign you as my personal doctor"

She sat through a myriad of exams, from a modified MRI to measure her magic waves to a complete genetic scanning that made possible to draw her genetic makeup.

The results were enough to make Iliana want to hurl away her breakfast.

"It seems, Ms. Potter, that you have an active vampire gene… Probably somewhere in your ancestry is a vampire" Doctor DuPea read out from his notes, sharing bewildered stares between the nurse who wasn't tending to a pale and trembling Iliana.

"How?" The surprised witch whimpered helplessly. This was a tragedy. If the bigots of the wizarding world found out about her newly found vampiric status, she'd be tagged as a dark creature and ran out of the country so fast she'd get whiplash'ed. "How can this be? Both mum and dad were humans, and I don't crave blood, I'm not a vampire"

Clearing his throat, the doctor answered the best he could. "We all have DNA. There are twenty three pairs of chromosomes responsible for storing all there is to know about us inside genes. The genes are like blue-prints, the moment we're formed, our genes provide information about how tall we're going to be, the color of our eyes and hair, even our gender… Our genes are a compilation of winning data – everything that'd help us thrive is used, every generation we're evolving slowly, but surely advancing thanks to the experiences of our ancestors…"

Iliana nodded, she could understand that layman's explanation. "Yeah… but how does that relate to me?"

"I was getting to that" Dr. DuPea placated. "Now you see, vampires are a completely different race from humans, even though they've evolved from us. In a genetic level, the vampire's genetic makeup is more complex. A vampire's inherit magic contorts a normal genome in a level even beyond the most current studies. There are many rules to becoming a vampire as I am sure you are aware" Dutiful nod. She had a couple of vampire acquaintances.

"Like to become one you have to be a virgin?" Even the nurses were now paying attention, to Iliana' slightly hysterical amusement… Even in witchcraft there were a couple of rituals that could only be performed by virgins, and virgin blood was a coveted ingredient in a lot of severely illicit potions. There was something about purity that amplified magical potential.

"Right. Now, usually, the union between a human and a vampire results in nothing – female vampires are barren since their biological cycle stops the moment they turn. But to males there is a different case – a man's gonads never stop producing seeds, though they're sterile unless in a very special case. A witch can bear a vampire's biological child thanks to her magic gene, which can adapt her own DNA in a way to match her partner's genes and produce offspring – According to several studies, a witch will always be fertile thanks to poor survival rates in earlier civilizations, your magic have adapted in such way to make sure the species continues…

The child born between a witch and an immortal, vampire, veela and even fae will be of its mother's blood, but the father's gene will be present from then on in the blood-line… It's not rare, on the contraire, after Merlin's generation, a lot of magical families gained one variant of magical gene from creatures. All settled magical families today have a little bit of a colorful ancestry… my opinion is that both the Potter and Black family had a vampire's gene, and when they joined in your father, it got transferred down to you. It was recessive, sleeping without doing anything inside of you, and it usually stays that way – never waking up, it's impossible"

Brain squirming, Iliana grabbed her forehead. "So you're basically saying I've inherited a recessive vampire gene from a greatgreatgreat grandmother's love affair with a vampire"

Smiling mirthlessly, the doctor assented. "Basically, yes"

"How did it wake up? If it's impossible, how did it become 'active' to the point where I'm not getting older?"

"I don't know… a traumatic magical experience such as being hit by the killing curse and surviving it, or being the receptacle of a horcrux, or even being bitten by a basilisk and showered in phoenix's tears – from that to a burst of accidental magic in your childhood could have done it, magic is truly an amazing and unpredictable thing" The doctor recited from her medical file, shooting an almost amused look at his glaring patient.

"How do I stop it? People will start to get suspicious, because if those idiots find out about this, they're going to chase after me worse than the slandering they're doing now"

"I'm sorry Ms. Potter, there is absolutely nothing we can do" Dr. DuPea shook his head grimly. "While you're not even a Dhampiel, you're effectively immortal, or at least will age very slowly… there is no way to predict what will happen from now on"

Grinning self-deprecatingly, Iliana dry heaved again. "So after everything Voldemort did to avoid death, I gain the means on a silver platter and I don't even want it"

She stayed a few hours in that clinic, conversing with the doctor and learning all she could in the time about genetics and vampires in general.

As soon as she left, Illiana flew directly to her home in number 12 Grimmald place, the house Sirius gave her, and holed herself up in her room and didn't come out until three days later when there were no more tears to cry.

She was going to be seventeen forever… Just the thought had her stomach curling in itself in fear and pain.

The next thing she did after three days ignoring her concerned friends, was call all the gang to a private meeting in her home. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny – no respective spouses were present with the exception of Hermione and Ron, who were married.

"What is going on Lana?" Hermione asked, seeing her friend pale faced and hazy eyed. "What's gotten into you? Those stupid, vapid, brainless people are not giving you trouble again, are they? If they are, we could always ask Malfoy to-"

"It's not that" Iliana cut her friend before she could go into a tangent. Hermione flushed, but closed her jaws with a snap that had Ron wincing at her side in Iliana's living room.

"Then what is it?" Ginny prodded, eyeing the russet haired girl from hair to toe. "Just get out with it! We're worried about you!"

Neville discreetly nudged Ginny, but the lithe red headed woman ignored him in favor of staring down Iliana, silently ordering her friend to open her trap – Iliana was always doing it, closing herself off and pushing away the people that worried most about her.

"I-I went to a magi-geneticist because I was worried I wasn't… getting older" Iliana didn't sob, but she was trembling before the stares of her close friends. "I have an active vampire gene. It is stopping my aging… I might be immortal…"

Hermione, Ginny and Luna were instantly at Iliana' side, throwing limbs over arms and hugging the panicking girl…

"Oh sweetheart, you're getting through this, you're strong Lana, stronger than anyone I know" Hermione mumbled against Iliana's neck, drawing all she had to comfort her best friend.

"You still can do magic, Lana, you're still a witch, so be proud of who you are, _we_ are proud of you" Luna said, pulling on a red/brown strand and smiling brightly at Iliana when she turned her head to look at the blonde.

A chorus of agreement ran through the room. Iliana allowed her eyes to close, for the first time since her birthday, she felt calm.

…

As her friends said, she started to get back into gear with the famous hardheadness she was known for. The very first week was spent in a kind of daze as she tried to readjust to the new knowledge that she'd outlive all her loved ones.

Iliana spent time with everyone, fixing her feet back to the ground and remembering that beyond her body's extra perks, she was still Iliana inside, and she shouldn't forget about that. It took a while more than she'd have liked, but in the end of that first week the witch was almost back to where she's been – all it took was realizing that everything she's lived through with the people she loved most would never leave her heart, and for as long as she lived, they would live along with her.

She was now sitting in her living room with Hermione, her friend said she had a surprise.

"I think this is going to work" Hermione used, looking down at the strange Hallows' pendant. The familiar symbol made Goosebumps run down her arms. Hermione, her smart and resourceful friend has been trying to tie a permanent glamour into an object, which would allow Iliana to 'grow old'. "Try it on" The Hallows' pendant was shoved at the other witch's hand.

Hermione look at her with an expectant expression. Noticing Iliana's darkening stare as she held the jewelry, the expectant look turned sheepish. "I'm sorry Lana. I just thought it was fitting considering everything… I was hoping we'd be able to have a good laugh in a few years, but now I see it was insensitive"

"It's alright, you're right, this is brilliant Hermione, I'm just currently not in the mood to appreciate the humor" Green eyes were cast low. The gears in her mind spinning madly as she looked down at the unassuming piece of white gold. In a way, it was morbidly funny – Death's own symbol being bared by the only Witch in history to survive the Killing Curse twice, and even become immortal by some convoluted genetic accident.

Maybe she'd have found it more humoring had Luna presented the idea. Luna had a peculiarly close relation to the Hallows after all the research her father made personally on them. But her blonde friend had her own family to take care of, even Hermione was sacrificing time she could have spent with her children to comfort Iliana.

Her bushy haired friend nodded sadly. "Just… try it on, let me see if the charm works, if it does, I can enchant something else" Suddenly feeling guilty at her perceivable childish behavior, though it wasn't really seeing as she's been through hell and back thanks to the ambition of wizards who'd thought they could conquer Death – Iliana shook her head.

"There is no need, if this works, I'm keeping it" Her hands rose to place the Hallows' pendant around her neck. The effect was instant. Iliana's face morphed a little, her cheeks hollowed slightly, making her high cheekbones more prominent and her skin changed parlors, becoming visibly older and marked by age. Her eyes lost a little of the vivacity, becoming a placid green fitting of a thirty years old respectful woman – she was thin, mature and haughty looking, but there was kindness in her eyes that made her seem more of a nobly dignified lady than the cold beauty that was Narcissa Malfoy, for example.

Iliana rose, wobbling a step since her legs were an inch or two longer and it made her perception faulty, and summoned a mirror with a wave of her hand.

"I look like mum" Were the words leaving unstable lips. "Hermione, this is… brilliant…" This way she wouldn't be persecuted because she wasn't aging – she could spend however long her friends lived with them.

"You look beautiful" Hermione said smiling, her own words wobbly. "The charm will show your physical age Lana, or at least how you'd have looked"

Iliana chuckled mirthlessly. "If that's true, imagine how I will look when I reach two hundred… I might have a longer beard than Dumbledore!"

At least until then, she'd hopefully know what to do.

…

London was alive tonight, Iliana noted, watching the people come and go through the night life keeping a fraction of the population awake and partying like there'd be no tomorrow. She herself was dressed sensibly, seeing as she appeared the physical age of sixty two, it wouldn't do to dress scantily as she's seen the younger girls of this generation do – a granny dressed like a high class hooker should be a laugh and a half.

Shaking her head in amusement, Iliana continued on from where she stopped, easily finding the club she's came in search for. 'Red Velvet' blinking in neon lights above a recluse building. The double barreled door was dark and imposing, covered in spikes and chained like the gates of hell.

The witch smirked. The dramatics were working, for the line of people waiting to gain entrance in the club was rounding the block.

Ignoring said line, Iliana strode purposely away from the themed door and went for a close alleyway. There, a particularly non-descript metallic door with a plaque saying, 'R.V. workers entrance' and a couple of bags of garbage littering around a larger trashcan.

Opening the door was easy – a twitch of her finger and the lock was unmade – so Iliana entered the club, exploring the workers lounge that connected to the kitchen and bar. No one stopped the formally dressed woman, but the witch could feel an extra pair of eyes that didn't belong to the humans around.

"What do you want here?" Resisting the urge to smirk again, Iliana turned around to pierce the one who spoke with her sharp green gaze, not showing any startle. He was tall, dark haired and as pale as chalk. Vampire.

This time she grinned. "My name is Iliana Potter, and I am here to see an old friend"

It was time to ingrate herself in the immortal community. After Voldemort' stunt, the MoM has been mending relations with the otherwise perceived 'dark creatures' such as vampires, werewolves and even giants… Iliana offered to play liaison, which worked just perfectly because then, she'd have access to the vampire world.

And that mean access to information about them…

The vampire eyed her sharply, recognizing the name.

"Master Alucard will see you in his office"

Her research has gone far, very far.

…


End file.
